Author: Momo Chan

Just before graduation, my boyfriend of four years, Scott, ended our relationship. As a parting gift, he gave me a villa, a Bentley, and eighteen million dollars — a token of gratitude, he said. Stunned, I demanded to know why. His voice turned cold: “For people like me, love and marriage are separate. I’m returning home for an arranged marriage.” He was engaged — to someone else. At the engagement party, I saw Scott, handsome in a bespoke suit. But opposite him stood his fiancée — short, severely overweight, with severe acne. Was this who he chose over me? My mind flashed to last night: he’d pinned me to the bed, whispering roughly, “Forget I’m human,” before devouring me. By morning, he was gone. His number disconnected, social media deleted. He vanished completely — until his lawyer arrived. He arrived at noon, explaining that Scott had given him specific instructions not to come any earlier, so as not to disturb my rest. He handed me a folder. I read the documents in a daze. It was a deed of gift. It stated that Scott was voluntarily transferring ownership of the villa, the Bentley, and eighteen million dollars to me, as a thank-you for our four years together. So that was it. He dumps me out of the blue and throws money at me like I was some prized canary he was setting free. The irony was, I didn’t need his money. I’d told him as much when we first got together. He’d just smiled with that infuriating confidence of his and said, “No matter how rich you are, you’ll never be as rich as me.” I never bothered to argue. I was in love with him, so what did it matter? But why break up now? Last night, the man who was usually so cool and composed had been so fierce, so desperate, whispering “I love you” over and over again like a prayer. How could it all be gone? I forced myself to be calm. Using my family’s resources, I found out where he was in less than an hour. And that’s how I ended up here, at his engagement party. I could see it in his eyes—Scott wasn’t happy. Was he being forced into this? “Kiss her! Kiss her!” someone in the crowd yelled. I watched as the woman reached for Scott’s hand. He flinched back, a purely instinctual retreat. Her face soured. Her thick lips twisted as she hissed, spittle flying, “Have you already forgotten what you promised me?” The color drained from Scott’s face. He took a hesitant step forward. He was being threatened. I was sure of it. I pushed my way through the crowd. “Scott!” I shouted, my voice ringing through the hall. “If you’re in trouble, just tell me! Don’t do this to yourself!” Every head in the room turned to stare at me. When Scott saw me, a flicker of joy ignited in his cold eyes, only to be instantly extinguished by a frost of panic. “Who is this bitch?” the woman on stage screeched, glaring at me. “Calling my fiancé by his first name. How very intimate.” Before I could declare who I was, Scott cut me off. He knitted his handsome brows, his voice dripping with disdain. “She’s just some pathetic groupie who won’t let go. Have security throw her out. Ignore her.” Groupie? I could feel the weight of their contemptuous stares. No one respects a desperate hanger-on. But that wasn’t me. We met at a university club event. I had just finished Muay Thai practice and was so hungry I could have eaten a horse. I ended up sneaking some of my roommate’s snacks. She teased me about it, jokingly demanding I call her “mommy” as punishment. We were always messing around like that, so I did it. Scott, ever the gentleman, stepped in to defend me. He told her she shouldn’t bully someone just because they were poor, then gently told me I shouldn’t steal. He was always like that—a man with a strong moral compass, always standing up for what was right. So I played the part. The poor, pitiful girl. I followed him around like a lost puppy until, before long, he was mine. The whole campus gossiped that he was my sugar daddy, that I was his gold-digging girlfriend. I was worried it would tarnish his reputation, so I told him the truth—that my family was ridiculously wealthy. He just shrugged it off, not seeming to care one way or the other. Our four years together were a sweet, steady love story. No dramatic highs or lows. We almost never fought. Which is why this sudden, brutal breakup felt like a betrayal I couldn’t comprehend. I had to know the real reason. I stared at the man on the stage and started walking toward him. Before I could reach him, the woman intercepted me. She was so short she had to crane her neck to look up at me, and I had to look down to meet her gaze. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming up here,” she snarled, and then she lunged, her hand swinging for my face. I stepped back easily, dodging the slap. I looked past her, my eyes fixed on Scott. “You broke up with me for this?” “What did you just say?” Scott strode forward, his hand raised. He slapped me. I could have dodged it. I dodged hers. But I didn’t dodge his. He’d been sick recently, and I was afraid a sudden movement might make him lose his balance. He was about to marry someone else, and here I was, still worrying about him. How pathetic could I be? I touched my stinging cheek, my heart shattering. “So you’re the college girlfriend,” the woman said, sauntering over with a sneer. “A cheap gold digger putting on airs. Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Veronica Thorne. The Thornes are the richest family in St. Claire.” I ignored her, my gaze locked on Scott. “You just left. No explanation. That wasn’t fair to me.” “Fair?” he shot back. “I gave you the villa, the car, the money. What more could you possibly want? Stop making a scene, Jane. We’re over.” His brow was furrowed in frustration. “You know how it is for families like mine. Love and marriage are separate. Thank you for the last four years, but my wife can only be Veronica. Understand?” “I just want to know one thing,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “Do you love me?” I knew all about strategic marriages between powerful families. My own parents were a product of one, though they were lucky—childhood sweethearts whose union was a natural conclusion. As for me… I was supposed to have one too, but my family’s position in New York was so secure, it was no longer a necessity. “Love?” Scott let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Jane, I’ve known since I was a child that my marriage would be an alliance. I don’t believe in love. I was with you because you were beautiful, and frankly, you were poor enough to be easily managed.” He smirked. “There. You have your answer. Now go.” So that was it. What I thought was a deep, sweet love was just an illusion I’d created for myself. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a beautiful, obedient pet. A canary in a gilded cage. It was laughable. I nodded, a bitter taste in my mouth. If that’s how it was, then fine. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest, but I knew how to let go. I came here to fight for him. But if the fight was already lost, I would walk away. “Alright,” I said, forcing a brittle smile. “I wish you happiness, Scott.” With that, I turned to leave the stage. I saw Scott clench his fists out of the corner of my eye, but he looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. But Veronica stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “You’re not going anywhere,” she sneered. “You came all this way. You’ll stay and watch. If you leave now, you’re disrespecting me, my family, and all of St. Claire.”

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“Maya, about that loan shark…” Jason began, his voice laced with a dark sort of humor. “I can’t make the payment. But I remember you have that pretty little insurance policy. Disability pays out, right?” I stared at him, a chill crawling up my spine. He took a drag from his cigarette, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Just kidding. Don’t take it so seriously.” But I knew. He wasn’t kidding at all. Jason was a scout for a human trafficking ring that operated out of a lawless border territory known as Blackwater. And for a long time now, his sights had been set on me. 1. “Be careful of your boyfriend. He’s dangerous.” When the anonymous call came, I brushed it off as a prank. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got spam protection,” I said, and hung up. The phone rang again immediately. I was about to let loose a string of curses, but I realized it wasn’t my phone. “Jason, your phone’s ringing!” I shouted toward the bathroom. The sound of the shower must have drowned me out. It rang again, persistent. Worried it might be an emergency, I answered it. A gruff voice on the other end didn’t even wait for a hello. “J, you got the girl locked down? Blackwater’s getting impatient. They need a heart and a set of corneas, like, yesterday.” A roar filled my ears, like a lightning strike inside my skull. Before I could even process the words, the phone was snatched from my hand. Jason stood there, a towel around his waist, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “What the hell kind of joke is that?” he snapped into the phone. “You’ll scare Maya.” The voice on the other end immediately shifted, turning jovial. “Sorry, boss’s lady! Just messing around. For real though, I booked a table at The Viper’s Nest tonight. Figured you two might wanna come hang.” “We’re in,” Jason said and hung up. He turned to me, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You didn’t actually believe that crap, did you?” I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck. I’d met Jason at a gallery opening, and after a whirlwind, intense courtship, we’d started dating. This side of him, this world, was completely new to me. 2. Later that night, we were at The Viper’s Nest, their usual spot. Jason led me by the hand up the sticky stairs to the private lounge. “Hey, Maya’s here!” a big guy—everyone called him Gus—greeted us, his arm draped around a new girl. He seemed to have a different one every week. I never understood how Jason, who was so polished and smooth, ended up with a crew of thugs like this. They oozed bad news. Jason lit a cigarette, the smoke coiling upwards, blurring the sharp lines of his profile. He never smoked in front of me, but with his “brothers,” he was a different person. A prickle of unease ran down my spine. I was missing something important. “I need some air,” I said. “Want me to come with you?” Jason asked. “No, I’m fine.” 3. Leaning against the railing of the rooftop terrace, I replayed the phone call in my mind. It churned in my stomach, a cold knot of dread. Why would Gus’s friend assume I’d be the one to answer the phone? What if Jason had picked up? “Hey… hey, miss.” A small voice pulled me from my thoughts. It was Gus’s new girlfriend. She glanced nervously over her shoulder before grabbing my wrist and pulling me into an empty VIP room. “What’s going on?” I asked, unnerved by her cloak-and-dagger act. Her eyes instantly welled with tears. “Listen to me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “These guys… they’re traffickers. They ship girls to Blackwater. We have to run. Now.” “How do you know that?” I asked, my own voice shaking. Before she could answer, a shadow fell across the frosted glass of the door. It was Jason. He stood there, his face a cold, emotionless mask. He crushed his cigarette under his shoe, opened the door, and pulled me out of the room without a word. A moment later, Gus lumbered into the room she was in. The club’s bass was a physical force, thumping through the walls. I couldn’t hear clearly, but through the chaos, I thought I heard the sickening thud of a fist, followed by a muffled cry. 4. Jason dragged me back to their booth. All eyes were on me. My hand closed around an empty beer bottle. With a surge of adrenaline, I smashed it against the edge of the table. The crash of shattering glass silenced the music for a beat. A jagged shard in my hand, I pointed it at Jason. “Who the hell are you?!” I demanded. For a second, he looked genuinely stunned. “Maya, what are you doing?” “I got a call from the police,” I bluffed, my voice ringing with more confidence than I felt. “And Gus’s girlfriend, she told me everything.” At my words, Jason’s expression relaxed. He actually chuckled, then gestured toward the lounge entrance. There was Gus, whispering and cooing with his girlfriend, Lily. She was clinging to his arm, looking up at him with adoring eyes, all traces of her earlier terror completely gone. Gus had the decency to look sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry about that, Maya. That anonymous call? That was Lily. We were playing Truth or Dare and the guys dared her to prank call you. We took it too far. Our bad.” The rest of Jason’s crew chimed in with their own half-assed apologies. I didn’t buy it for a second. I locked eyes with Lily. “Is that true?” She nodded, a faint blush on her cheeks as if she were embarrassed by the childish prank. “It is. I’m so sorry.” Slowly, I lowered the broken bottle. Something felt deeply wrong, a knot of ice in my stomach, but the pieces weren’t fitting together. Jason wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his side. “You were scared, weren’t you?” I forced a brittle smile. “No more games like that. Promise me.” He immediately swore up and down that it would never happen again. As the party wound down, Jason drove me home. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “My mom wants to meet you. I booked us flights for tomorrow.” “Tomorrow? But I haven’t prepared anything.” He stopped at a red light and gently flicked my forehead. “Leave it to me.” “Okay,” I said, pulling out my phone. “I should at least tell my dad.” 5. I dialed my dad’s number. “Hey, honey, miss me already?” he answered, the clatter of poker chips loud in the background. “Dad, you’re gambling again? It’s late, you should be home.” “Alright, alright, you got me. Winding it down now,” he said. I heard him tell his buddies he was cashing out. “So, what’s up, kiddo? You don’t usually call this late.” “I’m going to Crestview tomorrow to meet Jason’s parents. Just wanted to let you know so you don’t worry.” “Crestview, huh?” my dad said cheerfully. “Where in Crestview do they live?” I leaned my head against the seat and turned to Jason. “Where do your parents live in Crestview?” He kept one hand on the wheel. “Havenwood County.” I froze. Havenwood County? That was where my mother had been kidnapped by traffickers years ago. Jason’s family was from there? My dad went silent on the other end of the line. I knew he was thinking about Mom. “Dad, I’m not going. I…” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he cut me off, his voice firm. “What happened back then was a tragic accident. You can’t avoid meeting his parents forever because of it.” He told me to be safe and hung up before I could argue. Jason glanced over, sensing the shift in my mood. “What’s wrong?” I just shook my head, unwilling to dredge up the past. 6. The next day, we were up early, arriving in Havenwood County by ten. “Mr. and Mrs. Adler, it’s so nice to meet you. These are for you,” I said, handing them a gift bag. “Thank you, dear,” his mother said with a tight smile. “Come in, come in,” his father added. Their politeness was a thin veneer, stretched tight over something cold and hollow. It didn’t feel like a family home. While they were in the kitchen, Jason wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. “I was mostly raised by my grandmother,” he murmured into my ear. “We’re not that close.” Oh. That explains it. I placed my hand over his. “You have me now.” Dinner was an unnervingly silent affair. After a few minutes of just the clinking of silverware, they seemed to realize how awkward it was. “So, Maya,” Mrs. Adler started. “What did you study in school?” “I majored in Chemistry, with a minor in Psychology,” I replied. “I’m a therapist now.” His parents exchanged a quick, unreadable glance. “Well, eat up,” his father said. “Okay.” Later that night, I couldn’t sleep. I slipped out of bed, planning to take a walk, but froze when I heard voices from the hallway. It was Jason and his “parents.” “What were you thinking, bringing her here?” the woman’s voice hissed. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually caught feelings for her.” I heard the flick of a lighter, then Jason’s voice, colder than I’d ever heard it. “That’s none of your business. Your job is to play the part. If you blow your cover and she finds out who you really are, I’ll put you in the ground myself.” CRACK. My hand brushed against a small potted plant on a stand, knocking it over. The hallway light snapped on, flooding the space with blinding white. Jason stood there, his brow furrowed. “Maya. You shouldn’t have come out.” The woman’s eyes widened in panic. “Jason, she knows! We should just…” He cut her off with a look, then let out a chilling, humorless laugh. “You really think you have what it takes to replace her?” He took my hand, his grip like steel, and led me back to the room. He threw open the window, and a gust of icy night air swept in, making me shiver. I found my voice first. “Jason. Your entire relationship with me… it was all a setup, wasn’t it?” The charming mask was gone. His face was a landscape of pure, cold calculation. He sneered. “You’re not as dumb as you look, Maya. You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?” He gestured to the bed. “Get some rest.” Rest? In this house of lies, with this monster? It was impossible. And yet, a strange drowsiness began to wash over me, my limbs growing heavy. My last conscious thought, before the world went dark, was of the sweet, cloying scent of incense burning on the nightstand. 7. The road to Blackwater was a brutal, jarring ride. I woke to the sound of weeping in the suffocating darkness of a shipping container. “You’re awake.” It was Lily, Gus’s girlfriend. “Where are we?” I asked, though a sick certainty had already settled in my stomach. She gave a bitter, broken laugh. “On our way to Blackwater. I’m sorry, Maya. I lied to you. I couldn’t take Gus’s beatings anymore, so I helped them. I wasn’t the one who made that call.” Tears streamed down her face as she spoke, but I felt nothing for her. No sympathy. I peered through a crack in the container wall. After what felt like an eternity, the truck finally lurched to a halt. The doors were thrown open, blinding us with harsh sunlight. Two hulking men stood guard. “Get a move on! Out, now!” one of them barked. A few girls were too terrified to move. They were dragged out by their hair and thrown onto the dusty ground. “Get up!” The commotion drew Jason’s attention. He strolled over, exhaling a plume of smoke. “What’s the problem?” One of the guards grunted, gesturing at the sobbing girl on the ground. “She’s dragging her feet.” 8. Jason’s eyes found mine. He walked over, his expression unreadable. “Maya, if you cooperate, I won’t let anything happen to you.” I laughed, the sound sharp and ugly. “Cooperate how? By letting you cut out my heart? Or should I just sign the organ donor card now?” His face hardened. “The boss, Mr. Blackwood, is coming tonight. If you can catch his eye, you might just get to live.” I wanted to kill him. I always knew he was a scumbag, but this was a level of evil I couldn’t have imagined. “Oh, thank you so much for the opportunity,” I spat. “The first thing I’ll do when I’m his new favorite is have you killed.” “Maya!” he snarled, his eyes flashing with fury. “This isn’t the city. You want to die? Just say the word. I’ll be happy to arrange it.” SLAP. The force of my blow sent his head snapping to the side. My palm smarted, a dull throb that echoed the rage burning in my chest. “You lied to me, Jason. You used me, and you sold me. Mark my words. One of us is going to die here, and it won’t be me.” Gus wandered over, a smirk on his face. “Damn, J. Can’t even handle one little woman? That’s embarrassing.” “Get lost!” Jason roared. 9. We were all herded into a damp, dark basement. From the nervous whispers of our guards, I gathered that the arrival of this “Mr. Blackwood” was a very big deal. As a therapist, I’m trained to read people. The way they spoke of him wasn’t just respect; it was pure, undiluted fear. To survive, I knew I had to play the part. I made myself stand out, not through defiance, but through a chilling, calculated composure. It worked. I was the one chosen to “entertain” Mr. Blackwood. That night, lying in a luxurious bed in a silent, opulent room, I could hear my own heart hammering against my ribs. The door opened. A silhouette moved to the sofa across the room. I saw the brief orange flare of a lighter, then the glowing red ember of a cigarette in the dark. The air filled with the scent of expensive tobacco. I slipped out of bed. In the dim light, I couldn’t make out his face, but I could feel the sheer force of his presence. It was an aura of absolute power and danger that seemed to suck the very air from the room. I walked over and stood beside the sofa, my head bowed obediently. “Turn on the light.” His voice… it was deep, resonant, and disturbingly familiar. I scrambled to the switch by the door. Click. The room was flooded with light. I stared, my world tilting on its axis. “Uncle Damian??”

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The irises had withered. As I trimmed the dead stalks, Riel stormed into my greenhouse, destroying the orchids I’d nurtured. His voice was cold and triumphant. “Touch anything of my mother’s, even a leaf, and you’ll repay it a hundredfold.” When I stayed silent, he repeated, “Sooner or later, I’ll have you thrown out of this manor.” Looking at this child I’d raised for seven years, I felt no anger—only a deep weariness. “Fine. As you wish.” Blood dripped from my hand, cut by the shears during our struggle. I ignored the wound and knelt among the soil and shattered petals, saving what roots remained. These orchids had followed me to a foreign land, surviving seven winters, only to be destroyed on an ordinary spring day. Not getting the usual lecture, Riel lost some bravado. He straightened and switched to flawless English: “Don’t play the victim. You deserve this. You took my mother’s place—this is the price.” I steadied myself and looked up. “Where did you hear that?” The twelve-year-old had sharp Western features and Eastern grace. “None of your business.” He shot me a defiant glare from pale blue eyes, then turned and left. That evening, after I’d bandaged my hand, there was a knock on the door. “Mrs. Rockefeller, the Master is asking for you.” I nodded to show I understood. In the study, the man exuded an air of noble grace, his silver hair stirred by the occasional breeze from the open window. “I hear Riel was upset today.” I stood silently in the doorway. He crossed his legs, his posture a study in languid, aristocratic ease, and tapped his long fingers on the polished surface of the desk. “He’s just a child.” “However…” His voice, once mild, took on a sudden chill. “You’ve been here for seven years. You should know what you can and cannot touch.” I remained silent. It didn’t matter that those irises had sprung from a few seeds the lady of the house had scattered carelessly years ago. They were not mine to dispose of. Right now, I had no energy to argue. I simply obeyed. “Yes.” The icy atmosphere thawed slightly. “Come here,” the man behind the desk commanded. I moved toward him, but for the first time, I recoiled from the possessive, invasive nature of his kiss. Alander’s expression darkened, his tone laced with displeasure. “Don’t forget your place.” My place? For a moment, I was lost. “You are my wife,” he murmured, his breath hot against my earlobe. And then I remembered. It had been seven years since my sister’s death, seven years since my family had forced me into this marriage. I still held that hollow title. But the master of the house was a man consumed by devotion to his deceased wife. And so, I, his nominal second wife, was seen by everyone as nothing more than the head housekeeper. I smoothed the rumpled fabric of my collar and took a step back. “Mr. Rockefeller, there’s something I need to say.” Alander’s brow furrowed. “The contract between our families has expired. I believe it’s time for me to leave.” “Are you still angry with Riel?” Alander’s voice was cold. “It was just a few plants. I’ve had someone source several pots of the ‘Crowned Jade’ orchid. They’ll be delivered this evening.” It wasn’t about the poor, ruined flowers. I looked at the silver-haired man before me and shook my head. “The seven years are up. The contract is automatically terminated. It’s time for me to go.” The Rockefellers were one of Rosewood’s most illustrious families. Years ago, Alander’s love for Diana Windsor had allowed the Windsor family to secure their position by marrying into such a powerful clan. After Diana’s untimely death, the Windsors had used the pretense of caring for the child and their shared history to sign a seven-year marriage contract with Alander. Alander’s cold expression softened slightly. “Are you asking to renew the contract?” “No. I’m asking for a divorce.” As I spoke, I pulled a letter from my pocket. “All the details for the handover are written in here.” Realizing this wasn’t a tantrum, Alander’s face hardened. “Juliana.” “I don’t appreciate jokes.” A genuine smile touched my lips. “Sir, if you’re concerned about the manor, I’ve already found a suitable replacement for the head housekeeper position.” “Riel is your blood. After seven years, you can just walk away?” Alander’s voice was dangerously low. I was already turning toward the door. Hearing his words, I glanced back over my shoulder. “But he hates me more than anyone, doesn’t he?” … My mother’s tearful pleas from years ago were still vivid in my memory. “He’s only five years old, Juliana. He’s lost his mother.” “Living in that den of wolves, how will he ever survive?” Perhaps I was a fool. Perhaps I was just that desperate for a family’s affection. When I looked into that little boy’s clear, amber eyes, my resolve crumbled. “I’m your aunt,” I had told him. “I’m your family.” And the small, trembling child had launched himself into my arms. Back then, I never could have imagined that the boy with the cherubic face would one day hate me with such passion. … In the end, I couldn’t leave the manor just yet. Not only were there still matters to hand over, but my mother, Mrs. Windsor, had arrived and was now kneeling before me. “If you leave, what will happen to the Windsor family? To your father?” Her meticulously applied makeup was streaked with tears. I, however, felt a cold detachment. In Rosewood, the Windsor family’s entire standing was built upon their connection to the Rockefellers. For the sake of that connection, she had knelt just like this seven years ago. Back then, I had been helpless, and I had married him. I helped her to her feet. “The floor is cold.” Mrs. Windsor wiped her tears. “I knew you were a sensible girl.” “No matter what, blood is thicker than water. You take good care of Riel, and our family will continue to have a place in this city.” I walked her to the door. A blonde, blue-eyed maid saw us and smirked with open contempt. “As if she’d ever leave the Rockefeller family.” “My God, I lost the bet again.” “She schemed her way in here and clung on for seven years. Who besides herself has ever treated her like the lady of the house?” I was used to the whispers. During my first six months here, my English was so poor that people would mock me to my face, and I wouldn’t even flinch. As we reached the main entrance, my mother was still chattering away. “I hear Alander has another new flame causing trouble at the gates.” “Seven years, and you still haven’t learned how to handle a man? You need to be smarter, learn how to capture his heart.” “If you were half the woman Diana was, I wouldn’t have to… sigh…” She didn’t finish, but I understood. Once outside, I asked, “Are Father and my brother doing well?” My mother’s eyes darted around before she sighed dramatically. “Thanks to Mr. Rockefeller’s generosity, they have enough to eat. It keeps the worry from turning their hair gray.” “But I haven’t had a single good day here,” I said softly. “And there’s no one to be generous with me.” To the Windsor family, I was a button holding their lavish life together. To outsiders, I was a greedy social climber who had shamelessly married into wealth, a glorified housekeeper who would smile and placidly deal with her husband’s mistresses. To Alander, I was an insignificant stranger he tolerated only because of a passing resemblance to his dead wife. And to Riel, I was a scheming woman trying to replace his mother. Every day, I played a multitude of roles for a multitude of people. I could be anyone but myself. “I am leaving. As for what the Windsor family will do…” I lowered my voice. “Surely you can’t rely on an illegitimate daughter like me, can you?” “So, you know.” My mother’s face tightened with alarm. I simply smiled. I hadn’t known at first. I didn’t know why my brother and sister were sent abroad while I, at five years old, was left behind with only an old nanny, summoned back only when I was needed. I didn’t know why all my efforts never earned me a single glance of approval from my family. I wanted to be loved by my mother, gently, like my sister Diana was. I wanted to carry my father’s hopes and responsibilities, like my brother did. But nothing I did ever mattered. It wasn’t until recent years that I began to notice the inconsistencies, and piece by piece, I uncovered the truth. I was my father’s illegitimate daughter. That’s why Mrs. Windsor despised me, why the family would never truly accept me. But they hadn’t let me starve. They had raised me, fulfilling their basic duty. And in return, I had fulfilled mine, honoring the seven-year contract and preserving the alliance. “I’ve done more than enough. My debt is paid.” The shock on my mother’s face hardened into cold fury. “Then you should also know that without the Rockefellers, without the Windsors, you are nothing.” I turned away. “Mrs. Windsor, perhaps you should be more concerned with your own future.” Then I walked back into the manor. … I took a detour through the garden. The mess had been cleaned up. The newly delivered ‘Crowned Jade’ orchids were already in place, their leaves unfurling. They looked identical to the ones I had grown. I walked over, dug the seeds I had planted from the soil, and carefully repotted them in a small flower pot. When I returned to my wing of the house, I stopped short at the bottom of the stairs. My bedroom door was wide open. My suitcase lay by the landing, its contents strewn across the floor, marred with footprints. Clutching the little flower pot, I froze. Riel emerged from the room, standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at me. He kicked the suitcase, sending it tumbling down the steps. I dodged out of the way as it clattered to the marble floor. “Weren’t you leaving? I’m just helping you,” he sneered. “What’s that little game you people play? Hard to get?” “Do you really think my father falls for that kind of act?” The boy’s face was a mask of arrogance, his disgust for me unconcealed. I walked up the stairs, one step at a time, closing the distance until I stood right in front of him. His voice tightened. “What do you want?” At twelve, his frame was still slight. He took an involuntary step back, intimidated by my proximity. I looked at the childish face before me. “Why do you hate me so much?” When he was little, he had been so attached to me. I helped him through the grief of losing his mother, taught him Chinese, studied with him, cooked for him. But as he grew older, he pushed me away, becoming convinced that I was only kind to him for my own selfish gain. “You really don’t know?” Riel snapped impatiently. “Did Eleonora say something to you?” I pressed. I understood my mother’s methods. She wanted to use me to keep the Rockefellers close, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of Riel and me becoming too attached, of losing her own leverage. A flicker in Riel’s eyes told me I was right. “A few words from someone else can sway your judgment so easily,” I said, my voice steady. “You really are a long way from meeting your father’s standards for an heir.” “But you’re just a child. I don’t blame you. That doesn’t mean I forgive you, either.” Riel glared at me. “If you didn’t have such filthy ambitions, you wouldn’t be here, enjoying the status and privilege that belong to my mother.” “I never wanted any of this,” I said, my voice sharp. He scoffed. “Only because you know that in Father’s heart, you could never compare to her.” Looking at the smug satisfaction in his eyes, my voice turned to ice. “Riel Rockefeller, I don’t owe you a thing.” “But I have failed. I’ve raised an ungrateful child.” “But that’s alright. I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again.” Children really are the worst. Even the ones you raise yourself. I stepped over the scattered clothes, retrieved my important documents from a drawer, and walked out, holding my little flower pot. An indignant shout followed me. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never set foot in Rose Manor again!” “Running away is a childish trick! No one will care!” I didn’t slow my pace. No one saw me off. There were only the scrutinizing gazes of the maids and their incessant whispers. “Is she really leaving?” “Probably just throwing a fit because the Master and the young master don’t pay her enough attention.” “I bet she’ll be back in a few days.” “A pity. I thought she was a smart one. The Master is never short of other women.” Outside Rose Manor, the sun was warm and gentle. Alander’s other butler was waiting at the main gate, a polite smile on his face. “The Master is very busy and likely won’t have time to deal with the mistress’s moods. Please take these next few days to calm down. The money has already been transferred to your account.” The long, cold nights were over. Without a backward glance, I walked out into the blinding sunlight. I would never come back here again. I found a place and methodically erased every trace of “Juliana Windsor,” including the bank account and phone number. As planned, I boarded the next flight back to my home country. The plane ascended, gliding through a sea of clouds. I held my small pot of orchids and watched as the moon began to etch its pale outline against the light blue sky. I had returned. I received my new ID. On it were two simple words: Jules. From now on, there would be no more Juliana Windsor, a woman bound by the will of others. There would only be Jules, a woman who was free. I had grown up in the city, but I had no intention of going back. It would feel too much like living under the shadow of the Windsor family. I went to a small, quiet town called Havenwood. It was a place of canals and bridges, where spring seemed to last all year—the perfect place for growing flowers. The few stock market tips I’d picked up from my time around Alander had paid off; my secret investments had earned me enough to live out the rest of my days in this peaceful town. I bought a small house with a front yard and planted my seeds. The long journey had taken its toll on the delicate roots. I spent my days indoors, devouring books on horticulture and consulting with experts online. After a month, the dormant roots began to show signs of life. I was overjoyed. Just then, Havenwood’s annual Orchid Exhibition began. On a whim, I went to have a look and ended up making a few like-minded friends. Some of the older gentlemen were astonished to hear I had successfully cultivated ‘Crowned Jade’ orchids in my previous environment. They didn’t believe me until I showed them photos, at which point they were full of admiration. The sudden quiet in my life was strange, but I cherished it. With time on my hands, I invested in a local flower cultivation center. Between tending my own garden and occasionally acting as a consultant for my new friends, the days passed pleasantly. One afternoon, as I was leaving the center, my phone rang with an unknown number. I answered, but the line was silent. After a few “hellos” with no reply, I hung up. It was a weekday evening, and the streets were quiet. I ducked into a small restaurant, ordered a few local specialties and a small glass of wine, and sipped it slowly. Outside, the setting sun painted the sky in fiery hues, casting a warm, dazzling glow across the cobblestone street. After a few sips, my head started to feel light. Silhouetted against the light, a tall figure looked hauntingly familiar. I shook my head. I could usually hold my liquor, but perhaps because I’d rarely drunk during my years at Rose Manor, I was feeling the effects more than I expected. For a dizzying moment, I thought I was seeing Alander. Then I laughed at myself. As if he would ever come looking for me in a small, insignificant place like this. But the figure was getting closer. The black silhouette sharpened, resolving into a man with silver hair and blue eyes, his face a mask of noble indifference, so perfect it seemed blessed by the gods. “Juliana. It’s time to come home.”

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At the parent-child workshop, I received a note from my son, titled “My Honest Words for Mom.” 【Mom, can you please stop clinging to Dad?】 【If you hadn’t saved him, Dad would never have married you.】 【Dad has two Go world championships, but you only have one national title.】 【You trapped Dad by having me. Only bad people do that.】 【My friends all say their moms are the most beautiful people in the world, but I think Sienna is.】 【Please divorce Dad and let Sienna be my new mom.】 【Thank you.】 1 In the car, Jordy sat with his head bowed, fiddling with his fingers. Suddenly, the kid’s smartwatch on his wrist buzzed to life. Dwight’s voice, tight with barely suppressed rage, crackled through the tiny speaker. “Jordy! What on earth did you write at the workshop today?” “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Another kid took a picture of your note, and now it’s spreading through every parent group chat! How could you humiliate your mother like that?” Jordy’s lower lip trembled, and then he burst into tears. “I didn’t make it up! I heard you say it, Daddy! I heard you!” “That night you drank too much, you were crying when you said it. I remember every word!” On the other end of the line, Dwight’s furious tirade choked to a halt. A few seconds of dead air passed before his voice returned, laced with a new, frantic edge. “Your mother… is she there with you? Did she hear any of that?” Jordy scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “She’s not my mom! I don’t like her!” he wailed. “She’s driving right next to me! I wanted her to hear it!” Even through the phone, I could picture the color draining from Dwight’s face. He fumbled for an explanation, his words stiff and hollow. “Claire, it was just the alcohol talking. You can’t take it seriously. Jordy is so focused on Go, his emotional intelligence is… underdeveloped. He gets it from me. I’m so sorry.” “It’s your birthday today,” he added. “I’ll definitely be home tonight.” A flicker of surprise went through me. In ten years of marriage, he’d never once celebrated my birthday. How convenient. We could settle everything at once. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Good. When you get back, we can sign the divorce papers.” My words were like a switch. Jordy’s sobs instantly vanished, replaced by a triumphant cheer. “Yay! That’s great!” “Sienna was right! She said you’d agree to anything I asked!” The line went silent. After a long moment, Dwight’s voice came back, strained. “We’ll talk when I get home.” I ended the call. Outside, a massive billboard flashed past the window. It featured Dwight’s profile—his brow furrowed in concentration, a white Go stone held between his fingers. 【Two-Time World Go Champion Aims for a Third Title】 The sun glinted off the sign, a blinding flare of light that made me wince. A wave of dizziness washed over me. It felt like a lifetime ago, but ten years ago, I was the one everyone expected to win it all. 2 Dwight slid a few documents across the table towards me, the paper making a soft, crisp sound. “Here’s the divorce agreement and the asset division. I’ve looked them over. Everything seems to be in order.” He spoke with the detached air of someone reviewing a boring, predictable game. “The assets are split fifty-fifty. It’s fair. And you can see Jordy whenever you want.” I flipped open the folder. He was right. It was fair. Until my eyes landed on the date at the bottom of the page. A month ago. He’d had this drawn up a month ago. I set his papers aside and pulled a different folder from my own bag. “Let’s sign this one instead.” My voice was as calm as his, if not calmer. “You take seventy percent, I’ll take thirty. But on one condition.” “I completely renounce my custody rights to Jordy. I won’t pay any child support, and I think it’s best if we have as little contact as possible from now on.” Dwight’s hand, already holding the pen, paused for a fraction of a second before descending. The scratch of the nib on paper was sharp, decisive as a blade. “Done. Your turn.” The moment my signature was on the page, I saw the tension leave his shoulders. He visibly relaxed. His voice softened, adopting a tone of gentle magnanimity. “Thank you, Claire. Thank you for being so gracious, for not making this ugly.” “After all, if you decided to make a scene, it could have been very… difficult for me.” He trailed off, but we both knew what he meant. I gathered my copy of the agreement and stood up. As I did, my gaze fell on the elaborate cake sitting on the dining table. The first birthday cake I’d received in ten years of marriage. Jordy seemed to notice where I was looking and immediately threw his arms around the box protectively. “This is for Sienna! It’s her birthday today, too! I’m giving it to her!” Dwight’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Jordy, stop talking nonsense!” he hissed. “That’s for your mother.” “No, it’s for Sienna!” Jordy insisted, his little neck stiff with defiance. “I already called her! She’s on her way over right now!” As if on cue, the soft beep of the electronic lock sounded from the front door. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. In this house, only one person besides the three of us could walk in without knocking. Sienna breezed in as if she owned the place. Jordy immediately scrambled into her arms. “Mommy! You’re here! Let’s have cake!” He tilted his head back, his voice ringing out, loud and clear, “Sienna, you’re going to be my mommy now!” Not a flicker of surprise crossed Sienna’s face. She knelt gracefully, gently tapping Jordy’s nose. “Store-bought cake is so unhealthy, sweetie. I’ll make you a special handmade one.” I couldn’t be bothered to watch this performance. I grabbed my bag and walked toward the door. The motion-activated light in the hallway flickered on as I stepped out. Frantic footsteps echoed behind me. “Claire! Wait!” Sienna called out, her voice catching. I stopped but didn’t turn back. “Claire,” she began, her voice trembling as if she were the world’s greatest victim, “I don’t think I did anything wrong.” “In love, the one who isn’t loved is the third wheel.” “You were smart to just bow out gracefully. It’s better for everyone.” I felt no anger, not even a ripple of emotion. “You haven’t changed a bit, Sienna.” “In Go, you could only ever study my old game records.” “In life, you can only pick up what I’ve thrown away.” “It’s a good thing Master Alistair expelled you from the academy when he did. You would have been a complete disgrace to his name.” Without waiting to see the furious blush creeping up her neck, I turned and walked away. The elevator doors slid shut, reflecting my perfectly composed face. It was over. And that was for the best. 3 On my first day of freedom, I got a call. It was from the director of the Stonegate Go Academy, one of the most prestigious in the country. They had tried to recruit me as a coach years ago, but I’d turned them down, citing my need to focus on Jordy’s training. Now, they were extending the offer again. This time, I didn’t hesitate. When I walked into the main hall, a crowd was gathered around one of the large demonstration boards. In the center, a young girl was studying a complex endgame problem, her brow furrowed in concentration. The coaches surrounding her were murmuring amongst themselves. “Lily’s talent is just off the charts. To get this far in the ‘Art of War’ problem is incredible.” “What do you expect? She’s Lucas Thorne’s niece. That kind of intuition for the game is in her blood.” “But it looks like she’s stuck on this final variation…” I overheard their hushed conversation. Lucas Thorne? The only “Lucas” in the Go world revered enough to be called a god was the man who held nine world championship titles. The girl looked up, her expression puzzled. “Coach Miller, if Black doesn’t sacrifice here and plays a wedge instead, after White executes the ‘under-the-stones’ tesuji, is Black’s group really dead? I feel like there might be a sliver of a chance…” The coaches exchanged glances, each offering a textbook explanation, but none seemed to hit the mark. The girl’s eyes remained clouded with confusion. One of them caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye and his face lit up. “Claire! Perfect timing! Come take a look at this!” The board was set up with the infamous “Art of War” problem. It had been solved by a team of grandmasters over a decade ago, but for a child, it was profoundly difficult. I studied the position for only a few seconds before picking up a white stone. “Stop thinking about killing everything,” I said, my voice steady. “Force Black to connect, and solidify your own eye shape first. To save his group, he’ll be forced to reduce his own liberties. Then go back and look at the ‘under-the-stones’ position. The entire situation will have changed. This isn’t a calculation problem; it’s a question of sequence and feel.” Lily’s eyes widened in a flash of understanding. “Oh! I get it! Secure my own position before attacking! This placement here isn’t just a probe, it’s a way of building potential! Thank you, Miss!” She looked at me with a newfound sense of wonder. “Miss, your way of thinking is just like my uncle’s!” Coach Miller chuckled beside her. “Well, your uncle and Coach Vance studied under the same master. They were senior and junior at the academy.” Lily’s mouth formed a perfect “O.” “You’re the senior he’s always talking about? The one he said was even more brilliant than him?” I was taken aback, waving my hand dismissively. “I’m hardly a genius.” “But he said the genius senior had a tiny mole right here,” she insisted, pointing to the corner of her eye, “like a tiny red Go stone! And your name is Claire! It has to be you!” I subconsciously touched the minuscule mole by my eye, a mark I usually forgot was even there. I never imagined Lucas would remember such a detail. “Claire, you should be Lily’s coach,” the other instructors chimed in. “Her talent is immense, and most of us can’t keep up with her thought process. You’re a certified professional eight-dan, the highest-ranked player here. You’re the perfect fit.” Lily looked up at me, her eyes wide and pleading. I nodded. “Alright.” That evening, as I was walking Lily out after class, I saw him. A tall, slender figure was leaning against a car by the academy’s entrance, engrossed in a book of endgame problems. “Uncle Lucas!” Lily shouted with glee. Lucas scooped her up in a hug, but his eyes found mine over her shoulder. Our gazes met. The air grew thick with an awkward silence. He was the first to speak. “I thought you’d be spending the rest of your life with pots and pans. I never thought I’d see you in an academy again.” I couldn’t find a response. The path I’d chosen had led me to this humiliating end. It was shameful. “You’re divorced?” he asked, his tone casual. “I saw Sienna’s post.” I looked down, my voice barely a whisper. “There’s still a twenty-day cooling-off period.” Maybe I was imagining it. But I could have sworn I heard him mutter a curse under his breath. I quickly dismissed the thought. Lucas Thorne was famously refined, a perfect gentleman. He wouldn’t swear. “Well, Lily’s safe with you now. I should get going.” I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me again. “Claire. There’s this game I’ve been stuck on. I feel like I’ve hit a dead end. Could you take a look for me?” My eyes shot open, and I spun around in disbelief. “Are you talking to me?” “Who else would I call Senior?” A nine-time world champion was asking me, an eight-dan, to solve a problem he couldn’t crack? I hesitated. “I haven’t played seriously in a long time.” “And… my head isn’t what it used to be.” That day, after I’d pushed Dwight out of the way of the car, the impact had saved his life but scrambled my brain. The intuition, that genius-level feel for the game, had vanished overnight. I couldn’t even solve the endgame problems I had created myself. But a slow smile spread across Lucas’s face. “Master Alistair always said you were the only one whose thinking could break any mold.” “If you don’t come, you’ll definitely regret it.” I swallowed hard. The “Go fanatic” in me was stirring, that old obsession that made it impossible to walk away from a worthy challenge. After a long pause, I heard my own voice, thrumming with excitement. “Let’s go.” 4 Lucas’s home was a masterpiece of minimalist design. He went straight to his study to set up the board. I settled onto the couch. Lily snuggled up next to me, suddenly whispering, “You know… Uncle Lucas isn’t my real dad.” I nodded. “I know.” It was a well-known story in the Go community, though no one dared speak of it openly. After Lily’s parents died in a tragic accident, her uncle, Lucas, had taken her in and raised her as his own. She sighed like a world-weary old woman. “Good. As long as you know, I feel better.” “I’m glad I haven’t held him back.” Her mature act made me curious. “Held him back from what?” Lily gave me a look loaded with meaning but refused to elaborate. Just then, the study door opened. Lucas emerged. “It’s ready, Senior. Please.” On the board in his study lay an endgame of breathtaking complexity. Black and white stones were locked in a brutal, intricate struggle, the relationships between liberties and eyes so delicate it defied anything I had ever seen. For a moment, I was transported back ten years, the blood singing in my veins. I was completely absorbed, my fingertips hovering over the board, unconsciously tracing patterns in the air, searching for the one critical move—the tesuji—that could unravel the entire knot. Suddenly, my phone rang, shattering the silence. It was Dwight. “During the cooling-off period, you can withdraw the divorce petition at any time.” “I wouldn’t object.” 5 Was that it? I was speechless for a second, then sputtered, “You called me just to recite a legal statute?” For some reason, the other end of the line went quiet. After a long pause, his voice came back, strained. “It’s been ten days, Claire. Haven’t you cooled off enough?” His cryptic words left me completely baffled. “The law specifies thirty days. I can’t just skip the next twenty. What are you trying to say?” Dwight’s voice suddenly grew sharp with frustration. “Can’t you read between the lines?” It was always like this. Vague hints, expecting me to decipher his hidden meanings. My patience snapped. “Is there anything else? If not, I’m hanging up. I’m busy.” “Jordy’s sick,” he blurted out, his tone suddenly urgent. “He has a fever, and he keeps calling for his mom. Can you please come home and see him?” I froze. For the past few years, whenever Jordy got sick, he only ever called for Sienna. Why would he be calling for his mom now? But then, through the phone, I heard Jordy’s weak, whimpering voice clearly: “Mommy… Mommy…” Followed by: “Sienna! I want Sienna! Mommy…” I see. So that was it. They were scared. Scared that something would happen during this twenty-day waiting period, scared that I might change my mind. So they were using a sick child as an excuse to test me, to lure me back and ensure the divorce went through without a hitch. A cold smile touched my lips, and my voice was perfectly calm. “You two can relax.” “When Claire Vance gives her word, she doesn’t go back on it. I will absolutely not be withdrawing the divorce petition. You won’t have to wait a single day longer than necessary.” Just then, Lucas’s gentle voice came from outside the study door. “Senior, I made you some chamomile tea. Is it a good time to come in?”

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My childhood sweetheart, Finnian Croft, coaxed me into taking naked photos. He promised they were for his eyes only. I was scared, but a part of me felt triumphant for finally winning him over. Until the day I was competing with Chloe, a scholarship student, for the top prize in the university’s music competition. Finnian’s voice was casual, almost bored. “Sia, let her have it.” “You wouldn’t want those pictures getting out, would you?” I froze, then nodded like a fool. A week later, Chloe won, just as he’d planned. Finnian deleted all the photos. A wave of relief washed over me as I boarded a flight out of the country. All those years of devotion… I might as well have been feeding a dog. 1 Finnian said it so casually, his words were short and sharp. “You agree, and I delete the photos.” The summer heat was suffocating, but I felt like I’d been plunged into an ice bath. It was a blow to the head, stunning me into silence. I opened my mouth, but my voice trembled. “You promised me…” “I did,” he cut in. “I promised I’d be the only one to see them.” His gaze was heavy, pinning me in place. “And I won’t break my promise.” “As long as you give the first-place prize to Chloe.” I tried to argue, the words tumbling out in broken fragments. “It’s a singing competition… it’s supposed to be about talent.” “I… I won’t.” He seemed to have expected this. He pulled my chair closer, trapping me in the circle of his arms, and took out his phone. He guided my hand to unlock his private album. The explicit images filled the screen. A low chuckle vibrated in his chest. “Sia, you really do have an incredible body.” His lips brushed against my ear. “This one’s my favorite. You’re all flushed, your mouth open for the camera…” “Like you’ve been completely wrecked…” My fingers trembled. “Don’t look,” I whispered, my voice thick with tears. Finnian stopped, turning the screen off. The pads of his fingers were warm as he wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “Hey, don’t be scared. Just say yes, okay?” My fingers twisted in my lap, my mind a blank. “Okay.” A satisfied smile curved Finnian’s lips as he stood up. He smoothed my messy hair, his voice a gentle murmur. “I’m going to the class party tonight, so I won’t be walking you home.” “I’ll have the driver take you.” … The air conditioning in the music room was blasting. I pulled my jacket tighter, curling into a ball on the chair. So cold. So, so cold. I pressed my hands to my mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked my body. Finnian was the person I trusted most in the world. When I was seven, my parents brought me to the city from the countryside. Our small, cement house was replaced by a sparkling villa. But I never fit in. I was small, skinny, and dark from the sun. The other kids always picked on me. I learned to hide and cry in silence, thinking that if I just didn’t fight back, they’d eventually leave me alone. Until the day a group of boys tried to pull my pants down. I cried out, grabbing a dead branch from the ground. “D-don’t come any closer!” They didn’t stop. They laughed. That’s when Finnian appeared. He had a brick in his hand, and he chased them off. Then he held his hand out to me. “Hey, little stutterer. I’ll walk you home.” But my legs were jelly. I couldn’t stand. Finnian frowned, looking annoyed. But he still crouched down. “Get on.” I hesitated for a second before climbing onto his back. He carried me home, his steps slow and steady. After that, I followed him everywhere, a timid shadow for eleven years. Until the end of freshman orientation, when I finally worked up the courage to confess my feelings. Perhaps he’d finally softened. He smiled down at me and gave a regal nod. So when he asked me to take the photos, I swallowed my fear. “Will… will anyone else see?” I’d asked in a small voice. Finnian, holding the camera, had reassured me with a gentle smile. “Never. They’re my private collection.” I hesitated for a moment, then pulled off my nightgown, posing for him again and again. Now, that intimacy had become the knife twisting in my gut. My trust in him shattered into a million tiny shards. I finally broke, the sobs tearing from my throat in ragged waves. I don’t know how long I cried, but eventually, the tears ran dry. A message from Finnian popped up on my phone. He was as meticulous as ever. “You cried today. Your throat will be sore. Remember to drink honey water when you get home.” I clutched my phone, walking home in a daze. I almost stumbled into the path of a truck. My body was numb as I fumbled with the keypad to my apartment. The living room was pitch black. I didn’t turn on the lights, just sank onto the sofa and hugged my knees to my chest. The clock on the wall ticked, its hands circling again and again. My phone chimed. I opened it mechanically. It was my best friend, Jenna. Her message was blunt. “Sia, be honest with me. Did Finnian… did he take naked photos of you?” 2 A wave of suffocating shame washed over me. I frantically turned off the screen. I promised I would… The screen lit up again. Jenna had sent a video. My hand trembled as I pressed play. It was a dimly lit private room at a bar. Finnian was holding a cigarette, his voice lazy. “Don’t worry, the first prize in the singing competition is yours.” Chloe, the scholarship student, was sitting right next to him. They were impossibly close. She forced a smile. “Don’t joke around. Sia is beautiful and rich. I could never compete with her.” Finnian stared at her, lost for a moment, as if completely captivated. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft. “She won’t dare.” Chloe grabbed his hand, her eyes wide and innocent. “Why not?” Finnian fell silent. Chloe didn’t push. She just reached for a glass of wine on the table. The neon lights flickered over them. Finnian sighed, catching her hand. “You’re on your period. Be good, no drinking.” Chloe just blinked at him, her gaze steady. Finnian seemed to crumble under her stare. He cupped her face, a helpless smile on his lips. “I have naked photos of her.” “Happy now, you little troublemaker?” The video ended. It felt like a gaping hole had been torn in my chest, and Finnian had poured acid into it, burning me from the inside out. Jenna’s voice messages continued. “Sia, did you and Finnian have a fight?” “How could he…” “And who is that girl with him?” “Did he take… those kinds of photos of you?” My throat felt like it was sealed with cement. I wanted to tell Jenna not to worry, but when I opened my mouth, no sound came out. I typed back a reply. “No, he was just joking.” “Are you still at your part-time job? Go home soon.” My head throbbed. I collapsed onto the sofa. Chloe… Chloe… I closed my eyes, letting the silent tears fall. During freshman orientation, Chloe was the student representative. She stood on the stage, her hair in a neat ponytail, delivering a speech that was powerful and confident. At that moment, I was suffering from heatstroke, leaning weakly against Finnian. He fanned me, chuckling. “Look at her, full of life. And you’re like a sick kitten.” “How will you ever survive without me?” My head was spinning. “Finn, I want a popsicle,” I mumbled. He poked my forehead. “Nope. You’ll get a stomachache.” I buried my head in his neck, forgetting all about Chloe. But it turned out Chloe was a music major too. She was bright and cheerful, a ball of endless energy who got along with everyone. When Finnian came to pick me up from class one day, he teased, “I wish you had half her energy.” At first, I didn’t think anything of it. But then he started mentioning her more and more. The honey water he brought specifically for me? He started bringing an extra one for her. I got angry. “Why are you being so nice to her?” I demanded. Finnian crossed his long legs, rubbing his temples. “Sia, it’s hard for a scholarship student to major in music. Her life is tough; she just pretends to be happy. It’s just honey water.” But soon, it wasn’t just honey water. It was desserts, snacks, afternoon tea… Our fights became more frequent. He always said Chloe had it hard, that I should be more understanding. Until today. Today, for her, he had thrown everything away. My dignity, my privacy—it was all just currency for him to win Chloe’s favor. I stared at the single, lonely star outside my window, wondering what I had done so wrong. Why didn’t Finnian want me anymore? I bit down on my wrist, the salty taste of tears mixing with the metallic tang of blood. I didn’t let go until the pain was sharp enough to distract me. I didn’t want to feel this way ever again. Finnian was right. I was a coward. My first instinct was always to hide in my shell. But I couldn’t bear this pain anymore. I opened my phone and booked a one-way ticket out of the country, for seven days from now. … I lay in bed, a throbbing pain in my temples. But I couldn’t sleep. I pulled out my phone, searching again and again. “What to do if boyfriend takes naked photos?” “Will my boyfriend leak my private photos?” “Intimate photos leaked by ex-boyfriend.” … Reading stories similar to mine, my chest ached until I couldn’t breathe. I pulled the covers tighter around me, my finger hovering over a link: “How to survive revenge porn.” The advice was all so simple. Tell your family, your friends. Seek help… It sounded so easy, written there in black and white. I played it out in my head, over and over. But none of it would work on Finnian. He wasn’t afraid of anything. He could make any problem disappear. Tears soaked my pillow until I finally passed out from exhaustion. My sleep was restless. In a haze, I heard the distinct click of a camera shutter. 3 I woke with a start, clutching the blanket to my chest. The room was dark, the only light a small, blinking red dot from a camera. Finnian was a shadow in the corner. His lips were curved in a smile, his eyes flushed from drinking. “Beautiful,” he murmured. I scrambled out of bed, trying to snatch the camera away, but he easily caught me, pulling me into his arms. The cloying scent of cologne and stale smoke filled my lungs, and I coughed, my body shaking. Finnian’s arms tightened around me. “Don’t move,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I missed you.” My nerves were stretched taut, like a string being endlessly plucked. I grabbed his sleeve, my voice a raw rasp. “Delete… it.” He pressed me down onto his lap. “What’s wrong with your voice? Didn’t you drink the honey water last night? Are you still mad the driver couldn’t find you?” A wave of nausea rose in my throat. I dug my nails into my palms, struggling to get away from him. He sighed, a sound of weary resignation. “I saw your phone.” The fog in my mind cleared for a brief, terrifying second. I started to tremble. My plane ticket… “Your friend told on me, didn’t she?” he said, stroking my back soothingly. “I did take Chloe to the class party last night. It was her birthday, and she had no one to celebrate with. It was just a small thing, Sia. Don’t overthink it.” All the fight went out of me. My voice was barely a whisper. “Finnian, please, delete the picture you just took. I don’t like it. I don’t want to do this anymore.” He froze. His voice turned cold, laced with ice. “Still throwing a tantrum?” “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. How many times do I have to say it? I just feel sorry for her. Sienna, my patience has its limits.” His accusations rained down on me, blow after heavy blow, leaving no room for escape. I shoved him away and ran to the bathroom, my stomach churning. I heaved over the toilet, but I hadn’t eaten all day. Only bitter acid came up. I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Finnian swept me up into his arms. His lips were a thin, tight line. “You haven’t been eating again? I’m taking you to the hospital.” I clung to his shirt, my voice choked with sobs. “No, please, no. Finnian, just delete the photos, please?” He looked down at me, at my swollen, red-rimmed eyes. A flicker of conflict crossed his face. But just then, his phone, lying on the table, began to ring. He glanced at the screen, and his expression hardened. He placed me gently on the bed and handed me the camera. “I’ll call the family doctor to come over. You get some rest.” “You can delete whatever you want from the camera.” “As for the other photos…” He paused, tucking the blanket around me. “After the competition is over in seven days, I’ll delete them for you.” He stood up and answered the phone, his voice instantly melting into a gentle murmur. “What’s wrong?” “Stay right where you are. I’m coming to find you.” The door slammed shut. Faintly, through the wood, I could hear Chloe’s muffled sobs. … The camera was heavy in my hands. The screen showed the photo he had just taken of me sleeping. My brow was furrowed, tear tracks still visible on my cheeks. My nightgown had slipped off one shoulder, revealing a hint of skin. I slowly pressed the delete button. Then, I went through the rest of the camera’s memory. Nothing… nothing… My fingers flew across the screen, but in the end, all I found were pictures of Chloe. She was fully dressed, smiling brightly at the lens. I kept scrolling. There was Chloe, reading quietly in the library. Chloe, from behind, carrying her books to class. A side profile of her in music class, her head bowed as she took notes. … Countless photos. So many. A chronicle of her life, moment by moment. It looked so… happy. I started laughing, and the laughter turned into tears. So this was what he meant by “just feeling sorry for her.” When Finnian had first bought the camera, we went to the beach. Someone asked him to take a picture for them. He had smiled, a distant, polite smile, and said, “I only take pictures of Sienna.” The sun was so bright that day. I remember blushing. I had believed, with all my heart, that I was the only one. Now, I saw that I was just another one. Like a madwoman, I tore through the apartment, pulling out every photo frame, smashing them one by one with the heavy camera until I was completely exhausted. Shards of glass littered the floor. Amid the wreckage, I sat, suddenly realizing how tired I was of this one-sided devotion. I couldn’t chase him anymore. Night fell, and my empty stomach protested. I picked my way through the glass, my feet bare, and made myself a bowl of noodles. The calm surface of the water reflected my own devastated face. While I waited for the water to boil, my phone buzzed. A screenshot from Jenna. It was Chloe’s latest social media post. “Got harassed during my gig at the bar tonight, but thankfully, he was there.” The accompanying photo was of Finnian. He was sitting casually on a sofa, his head bowed as if giving orders to someone out of frame. Jenna was furious. “What is this, a hard launch? Doesn’t Chloe know you’re his girlfriend and fiancée? And he just lets her post this? Where are the boundaries?!” The water boiled over. I dropped the noodles in. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” I typed back. “And I’m not going to marry him.” After I’d confessed my feelings, Finnian had arranged for our families to meet. They’d agreed on our engagement. We were supposed to get married after graduation. Jenna was silent for three seconds. Then my phone started vibrating nonstop with her calls. “Hahahaha, you finally saw the light! But wait, how are you going to explain this to your family? Is it going to be a huge mess?” A warmth spread through my chest. I cleared my throat. “It won’t be.” My parents had always thought I was too submissive with Finnian. It had taken months of pleading for them to agree to the engagement in the first place. I carved a smiley face into a slice of carrot and dropped it into my bowl, then stood at the counter and ate the whole thing. Outside, lightning split the sky. The wind whipped the white curtains into a frenzy. I shivered. My phone rang. It was Finnian. His voice was warm, apologetic. “Sia, a friend of mine got into some trouble. I won’t be back tonight. If you can’t sleep, there are sleeping pills in the cabinet.” A flash of lightning illuminated my pale face. I have insomnia. And I’m terrified of thunderstorms. When I was little, in the countryside, my grandmother would hold me. After I met Finnian, he took her place. The first time he found out, he’d scoffed. “Why are you such a coward?” Then, he’d opened his arms. “There’s an empty spot right here. Come on.” For eleven years, he had never missed a storm. Until tonight. I didn’t reply. I didn’t know how. Should I pretend I didn’t know? Should I scream at him? It felt like neither option was worth the effort anymore. None of it mattered. I called my parents. “A broken engagement? Did you and Finnian have a fight, honey?” my mother asked, her voice filled with concern. “Nothing like that,” I said vaguely. “I just don’t think we’re a good fit.” My mother sighed. “Alright. Finnian is a wild spirit. This might be for the best. Don’t worry, your father will handle things with the Crofts.” I choked back a sob, my voice steady. “Mom, can we… can we not tell the Crofts just yet?” “Okay, sweetie. Whatever you want,” she said with another sigh. “If you’re unhappy, just come home. Mom’s here.” I hung up quickly, my eyes burning. But I couldn’t cry anymore. I curled up in bed and fell into a heavy sleep. Six more days. In six days, the photos would be gone. And Finnian and I would go our separate ways, never to meet again.

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The System bonded with me just as I finished whipping Sierra Bright. A shrill, static shriek erupted in my mind. [Host, stop! She’s the female lead! The one who’s destined to kick you out of your home and leave you for dead in the streets!] My gaze drifted down to Sierra. She was kneeling at my feet, hands bound behind her back. Expanses of pale skin were bare, crisscrossed with the angry red welts I’d just left. As if sensing my eyes on her, she lifted her head. Her expression was a blank mask, her eyes as cold and empty as a winter lake. Not a flicker of emotion. The System’s voice trembled. [Host, it’s not too late! Untie her! Put some ointment on her wounds! Ask her if she’s cold, if she needs anything…] I let out a cold laugh and slapped her across the face. A dog that bites just needs to be taught its place. 1 Sierra’s head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. Her chest rose and fell, her legs pressed tightly together. She looked like she was at the very edge of her control. I gripped her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. Sierra’s gaze was a black, suffocating void. It had a way of making you feel pinned, even when she was the one bound and kneeling, covered in marks. There was no sense of defeat in her, only a coiled, predatory stillness. The kind that promised she would rip your throat out the second she was free. “Do you know why I hit you?” I asked. She said nothing, just stared, her eyes burning into mine. I patted her cheek. “If you don’t know, then you can stay on your knees.” “Kneel here until I wake up from my nap. Then we can go to class together. How does that sound?” I stood up and walked past her toward the bedroom. The leg of my trousers brushed against her cheek. Her dark eyes shuttered, and after a long moment, she slowly closed them. 2 Sierra was a toy I’d acquired by chance. She had the looks, the brains… it didn’t take long for her to become a campus legend after starting university. I saw her around a few times and decided I wanted her. I pursued her, but she acted as if I didn’t exist. It was the first time I’d ever been rejected, and the blow to my ego was significant. So, I had her investigated. It turned out her family was dirt-poor and her mother was gravely ill. No matter how many part-time jobs she killed herself working, she could never scrape together enough for the medical bills. Conveniently, I had more money than I knew what to do with. Our relationship was simple. I paid her bills, and she played the part of my dog. I have a vindictive streak and a long memory. The flicker of attraction I felt for her wasn’t nearly enough to erase the humiliation of being ignored. And that face of hers… every time she looked at me with those placid, emotionless eyes, I felt an overwhelming urge to make her feel something. I wanted to rip open her prim white blouses, to leave my mark on her flesh. But Sierra rarely showed any emotion. Even when I hit her hard, she would only gasp for breath, glaring at me, stubbornly refusing to make a sound. It was as if she knew exactly what I wanted to see, what I wanted to hear. And so she denied me, her face a mask, her lips sealed. 3 But now, thanks to the System, I had some new information. Apparently, the world I lived in was a novel. Sierra was the protagonist, destined to rise from the ashes and become a titan of the business world. And I was the villain. The sadistic asshole who subjected her to endless humiliation in the early chapters. The first thing Sierra did after clawing her way to the top was to eliminate me. The System also informed me that Sierra and I had, in fact, been switched at birth. My own biological mother was the one who had swapped us in the hospital nursery. So, the life of immense wealth and privilege I enjoyed was a sham. Sierra was the true heiress. I was just the impostor. One of the novel’s major “satisfying” plot points, I was told. For me, however, it was anything but satisfying. I had no desire to live Sierra’s life of miserable poverty. I couldn’t stomach a single one of the hardships she endured as a matter of course. The System was practically weeping in my head. [Then why are you still hitting the female lead, Host?! This will only make her hate you more! When the truth comes out, your fate will be even worse than what was written in the book!] [Hurry up and untie her! Apologize! Let her go!] “No,” I said, cutting it off. “Remind me, what is it you’re supposed to do?” The System sulked. [My purpose is to help you raise the female lead’s affection score, thereby changing your tragic ending.] [It’s my fault for arriving so late… you’ve already been treating her like this for a month. Forget raising her affection score, we’ll be lucky if it’s not in the negatives!] “Why don’t you check what her affection score is for me right now?” I suggested. The System muttered as it ran the scan. [I’ll eat my own code if it isn’t negative… Affection Score: 95%?!?] [That’s impossible!] [Is this a bug?!] [Something is seriously wrong! Either I’m broken, or the female lead is broken… Who gets whipped every day and falls more in love? Is she a psychopath?!] I yawned. “She is.” You can suppress your emotions. You can control your expression. But you can’t fake a physiological reaction. Every time I laid a hand on her, Sierra’s face remained a mask of cold indifference, but her body betrayed her. A flush would creep up her neck, staining her ears crimson. A sheen of moisture would film over her eyes, making them glisten. She thought she had it all under control, but every pore of her skin was screaming for me to come closer, to touch her, to punish her. But I never truly gave her what she wanted. 4 During the university’s anniversary festival, I had a run-in with an old acquaintance. Mark, my roommate from freshman orientation. Back before my family’s influence was widely known, he’d spread a rumor on the campus gossip blog that I was being kept by some rich old cougar. I confronted him directly, threw a wad of cash in his face, and publicly humiliated him. Then I had my lawyers send him a cease and desist letter. He ended up posting a tearful apology video, which made us both infamous on campus. He’d avoided me like the plague ever since. Now, for some reason, he’d found his courage again. And all because I’d sent Sierra to grab me a bubble tea from off-campus? Mark was practically vibrating with self-righteous fury. “Julian Derringer, you think you can bully people just because you have money? Why should Sierra have to go get your damn bubble tea? Don’t you have legs?” “You’ve been ordering her around like this for a month! Do you think she’s your servant? If you’re such a sick bastard, go home! Why even come to school?” One of my friends scoffed. “Who are you to Sierra, Mark? You’re acting like Julian just ordered your girlfriend around.” “Yeah, man, don’t be so possessive of someone else’s girl. Julian just finished performing; he’s exhausted. What’s the big deal about getting him a tea?” “Unless… you have a crush on Sierra, and you can’t stand seeing her be so good to Julian?” Mark’s voice rose. “She’s never publicly admitted they’re a couple!” “I just think what you’re doing is disgusting! We’re all supposed to be equals here, but you, Julian Derringer, you act so special, treating a fellow student like your personal slave…” His shouting drew a crowd. Nothing attracts college students like a bit of drama. Right on cue, Sierra returned, a single bubble tea in her hand. She seemed oblivious to the argument swirling around her, walking through the parted crowd and silently presenting the drink to me. I was still in my stage costume, slouched in a chair. “Put the straw in for me,” I said, completely ignoring Mark’s pathetic yapping. Without a word, without a change in her expression, Sierra did as she was told and handed the drink to my side. I took a sip, then sighed dramatically. “Ugh, my hands are full. And my feet are killing me in these leather shoes.” I looked at Sierra. “Be a dear and change my shoes for me, would you?” 5 The crowd gasped, their expressions a mixture of shock and thrilled excitement. Mark stared for a moment, then sputtered, “Sierra, don’t listen to him! He’s…” Before he could finish, Sierra was already moving. She sank down before me, resting on one knee, her hand closing around my ankle. A shiver went through me. The air conditioning was on high, and my feet were cold, but her hand was burning hot. Her grip was firm, leaving faint prints on my skin as she slowly eased off my leather shoe. All I could see was the top of her head, her expression hidden from view. I took another sip of my tea and glanced at Mark’s pale, horrified face. A malicious grin spread across my lips. “You know what? You’re right. I do treat her like a servant. Why don’t you ask her if she wants to go with you?” I said it casually, as if bored. “If she says yes, I’ll let her go. I promise.” “Of course she’ll say yes,” Mark declared with a bizarre confidence. He looked at her with heroic determination. “Sierra, I know you’re being forced into this. You never smile when you’re with him. You must be sick of Julian constantly harassing you.” I started to lift my foot, but before I could tap her chin, she caught my foot, holding it firmly in her grasp. My breath hitched. After a moment, I spoke. “She’s talking to you. Are you sick of me harassing you?” Sierra was tying the laces on my sneakers. Her voice was low and steady. “No.” I smiled. “Do you want to go with him?” I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper. “This is your only chance to walk away, you know.” Sierra paused. The System’s voice was frantic in my head. [Host, are you really letting her go?! I know her affection score is high, but…] No sane person would endure this kind of treatment. If given a chance to escape, anyone would take it. I said nothing, just watched her. She shook her head, her voice slightly hoarse. “I’m not leaving.” 6 After getting into university, my family bought me a condo near campus. It made for a perfect little love nest. The moment we got home, I stripped off Sierra’s shirt. My thumb pressed against a whip mark that hadn’t yet faded. I traced the long, thin line, feeling the breath hitch in the body beneath me as she instinctively leaned into my touch. I shoved her away. The whip and ropes were always within arm’s reach. A month was a long time. My initial fascination with her had started to wane, but the System’s arrival had rekindled my interest. Sierra closed her eyes, probably expecting another lashing. But not this time. I stepped forward, and under her surprised gaze, I cupped her face, my other hand stroking her side. “Sierra, you made me very happy today.” She stared at me, bewildered. I met her gaze, my hand sliding down to hook a finger in the waistband of her jeans, leading her toward the bedroom. It was the first time I had ever brought her into my room. Usually, she slept on the sofa or the floor. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at her. “Kneel.” Her eyes darkened slightly, as if she suspected this was just a new form of torture. She knelt without a word, her expression unreadable. I had a new toy. A collar. I leaned forward to fasten it around her neck. Her gaze flickered to my own throat for a second before dropping again, submitting to my touch. Once it was on, I gave it a sharp tug. Sierra tumbled forward onto me. Her bare chest heaved, her breathing ragged. Her eyes were feral. “Julian, don’t push it too far.”

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The day I was welcomed into the lap of luxury, I was told my only purpose. I was to be a spare heart for the family’s golden girl, Vivian Thorne. My biological parents, my own brother, and even my fiancé—they all orbited her, their true sun. My fiancé, Kurt Ducey, tilted my chin up with his fingers, his voice devoid of any warmth. “Your job is to be her shadow. You will take her place, fulfill the engagement she cannot.” He leaned in, his words like chips of ice. “Once Vivian is well, I’ll give you a handsome sum of money and you will disappear.” They drew my blood, locked me away, and forced me to mimic every facet of Vivian’s life, all to keep her entertained while she withered away on her sickbed. Until the day of the transplant, as I lay on the frigid operating table. I smiled at their anxious faces behind the glass. “What if I told you her heart condition is hereditary?” I asked, my voice echoing faintly in the sterile room. “And what if I told you… I’m not related to any of you by blood?” … I calmly signed my name, Elena, on the “Living Organ Donor Consent Form.” They called it a “familial gift.” The ink was barely dry before my so-called mother, Eleanor Thorne, was already snapping at the staff. “Quickly, take Elena for a blood draw. Vivian needs to build up her strength.” A nurse’s cold needle slid into the delicate skin of my arm. My blood, my life force, began to drain, drop by drop, into a plastic bag. Not far away, Vivian, lounging on a plush sofa, wrinkled her perfect nose. “Mother, the smell of blood is so strong. It’s making me feel ill.” Eleanor instantly rushed to her side, cupping a hand over Vivian’s nose, her voice a syrupy coo. “There, there, my sweet Vivi. It will be over in a moment.” She never looked at me again. I might as well have been an IV stand. After the draw, the world swam in black spots. I reached out a hand to steady myself against the wall. My father, Richard Thorne, approached, not with a comforting arm, but with a platinum card, which he pressed into my palm. “There’s a hundred thousand dollars on this. For your nutritional expenses these next few months.” His tone was that of a shrewd investor closing a deal with a guaranteed high return. “Keep your body in prime condition. Don’t disappoint us.” I clenched the card, my nails digging into my flesh. Just then, the door opened, and a tall, imposing figure strode in. It was my fiancé, Kurt. He walked straight to Vivian, his eyes melting with a tenderness I had never seen. “How are you feeling today?” Vivian offered him a fragile smile. “Oh, Kurt, I feel so much better now that you’re here.” His gaze finally fell on me, as cold and impersonal as if he were looking at a piece of furniture. He tossed a thick binder at my feet. “Memorize this. It’s a complete file on Vivian—her likes, dislikes, her favorite phrases.” His voice was sharp. “When I take you out to company events, you will not slip up. You will not tarnish her image.” I was given the room next to Vivian’s. It had no windows, only a single, unblinking security camera mounted in the corner. They called it “convenience of care.” It was a 24/7 surveillance cell for their precious investment: my heart. My first day as a shadow was spent at the piano. Kurt loved to hear Vivian play Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.” My fingers fumbled over the keys, striking a clumsy, discordant note. My brother, Miles, who had been standing guard, stormed over, his boot connecting with the piano bench in a violent crack. The bench flew out from under me, and I crashed to the polished floor. “Useless!” he snarled, looming over me, his face a mask of undisguised disgust. “You can’t even do this one simple thing right? What good are you?!” That night, my stomach twisted with hunger pangs. I crept to the kitchen, only to find scraps and leftovers. From Vivian’s room next door, I could hear the warm bubble of laughter as the family celebrated her “stable condition” for the day. I retreated to my cage in silence. From a hidden seam in my luggage, I retrieved a small razor blade I had concealed. I drew a thin crimson line across my fingertip. The sharp sting of it was a shock to my system, grounding me. I needed that pain to fight the creeping numbness, the soul-crushing despair they drowned me in every day. A few days later, Kurt needed me for a corporate gala. Vivian was feeling too weak, so her understudy was called to the stage. I was dressed in a white gossamer gown identical to one of Vivian’s, with the same subtle makeup she favored. At the party, one of Kurt’s friends swaggered over, a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes raking over me with a suggestive smirk. “Changing things up, Ducey? This one looks a lot more innocent than Vivian.” Kurt’s arm snaked around my waist, his grip so tight I thought my bones might crack. He smiled at his friend, a chilling smile that never reached his eyes. “Just a cheap knock-off,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Borrowed for the night.” I froze, the blood turning to ice in my veins as a ripple of condescending laughter spread through the group around us. When we returned to the Thorne mansion, the moment I stepped through the door, a stinging slap sent my head snapping to the side. Eleanor stood before me, her face contorted with fury, pointing a trembling finger at my face. “Who told you to drink juice at the party?!” she shrieked. “Don’t you know Vivian is allergic to mangoes? What if it affects your body?!” Her features were twisted with a rage that was terrifying to behold. “That body belongs to Vivian, not you! You get that through your head!” I held my burning cheek, staring into her hateful eyes, and felt a profound, chilling silence descend upon my soul. In that silence, a seed of hatred, black and poisonous, finally broke through the soil. Vivian’s condition took a sudden downturn; her heart rate became erratic. The family doctor announced that she needed another large blood transfusion to stabilize. I was forced into a chair, watching my own life drain away again. 400cc this time. Already anemic from malnutrition, my vision tunneled to black and I fainted. I awoke on the cold, hard floor. My vision cleared to see Richard, Eleanor, and Miles huddled anxiously around Vivian’s bed. “Vivi, my darling, how do you feel? Is it any better?” “It’s all that Elena’s fault. Her body is so weak, her blood must be poor quality!” Miles turned, and seeing me awake, the loathing in his eyes was palpable. He strode over and hauled me to my feet with one brutal tug. “Listen to me, Elena,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “I swear, if you pull another stunt that affects Vivian, I will make your life a living hell.” I staggered, dizzy and nauseous, but couldn’t utter a single word. To make me a more convincing replica, Eleanor began giving me personal “etiquette lessons.” She wielded a long, wooden ruler, smacking my legs and back to correct my posture, my gait, even the curve of my smile. “Vivian smiles at a fifteen-degree angle, not twenty!” CRACK. The ruler struck my shins, a hot, searing pain. “Again!” Kurt appeared again one afternoon, holding a beautifully wrapped gift box. He didn’t hand it to me; he dropped it at my feet. “Change into this,” he commanded. Inside was a champagne-colored dress, an exact copy of one in Vivian’s closet. “Vivian adores this dress, but she’s too frail to wear it now. You’ll wear it for her.” I changed in silence. The dress was a size too small, the fabric straining against my skin, constricting my breath. Kurt looked me up and down, a frown creasing his brow. “You’re thin as a wraith. You have none of Vivian’s charm. It’s pathetic.” Dr. Finch, the elderly family physician, came for my routine check-up. He had kind eyes and a gentle demeanor that felt entirely out of place in this house. While taking my blood pressure, he deftly pressed a small, wrapped candy into my palm. In a voice so low it was almost a whisper, he said, “Child, don’t give up.” The hard candy dissolved on my tongue, a sweetness so intense it was almost bitter. My eyes burned with unshed tears. It was the first, and only, drop of warmth I had received since entering this gilded cage I was supposed to call home. As Vivian’s strength returned slightly, she began to torment me with renewed vigor. She made a point of being affectionate with Kurt in front of me, draping herself over him while her eyes, sharp and venomous, stayed locked on me. “Oh, Elena,” she’d purr, “you don’t mind, do you? After all, Kurt’s heart has always been with me.” Kurt would cast a cold glare in my direction. “Stop staring at Vivian like that. If you upset her, you’ll pay the price.” I would lower my gaze, burying the inferno of my hatred, my nails digging crescents into my palms. I stopped sleeping. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on that operating table, the blinding light, the scalpel. I asked Eleanor for sleeping pills. She sneered, but agreed. “Good. A sleeping girl can’t get any foolish ideas.” One afternoon, I was carrying a glass of water through the living room when Vivian subtly stuck her foot out, tripping me. I went down hard. The glass flew from my hand, shattering her favorite crystal vase. Richard came home from work to find the glittering shards on the floor and Vivian’s eyes red-rimmed with tears. He exploded. Without asking a single question, he pointed a finger at my face and sentenced me to kneel on the stone patio for the entire night. Around midnight, the heavens opened up. A torrential rain began to fall. I was soaked through in minutes, shivering uncontrollably as a fever began to burn through me. Through a haze of delirium, I thought I saw Dr. Finch again. He administered a shot that cooled the fire in my veins. And then he leaned close, whispering something in my ear that shocked me back to full, terrifying clarity. “Your blood type is a match, of course. But I noticed something…” “…several of your other genetic markers show minute, but distinct, discrepancies with Mr. and Mrs. Thorne.” “It’s… not normal.” After the fever broke, I became more “obedient” than ever. I even offered to personally cook soup for Vivian as an “apology.” Seeing me so “sensible,” Eleanor allowed it. I used my time in the kitchen to secretly collect the disposable paper cups Richard and Eleanor had drunk from. I sealed them carefully in a plastic bag and hid them under my mattress. Now, I just needed a way out. So I began to act. I became withdrawn, staring at walls for hours. I would burst into tears for no reason. I was becoming a nuisance, and my erratic behavior finally frayed Eleanor’s nerves. She was afraid my mental instability would compromise the quality of the heart destined for her daughter. “Miles, take her out,” she ordered. “Buy her a cat, a dog, whatever. I can’t stand this deathly gloom!” With a cold scowl, Miles practically frog-marched me to a pet store. I pretended to be engrossed in a litter of kittens in a glass enclosure. The moment he stepped away to take a call, I slipped out the back door. A man in a baseball cap was waiting in the alley. He was a contact from a third-party genetics lab, arranged for me online by Dr. Finch. I handed him the sealed bag from my pocket. “Rush order. I need the results as soon as possible,” I said. “The money is already in your account.” The man nodded, took the package, and vanished down the alley without a word. I slipped back inside just as Miles was ending his call. He shot me a suspicious look. “Where did you go?” “I… I just used the restroom,” I mumbled, keeping my head down, playing the part of a frightened mouse. He waved a dismissive hand. “Have you picked one yet? Stop dawdling.” He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “This is the last time. Make another request for anything, and I’ll break your legs.” I returned to the mansion clutching a small, fluffy kitten. A few days later, it was Vivian’s birthday. The Thornes threw a lavish party, a veritable who’s who of the city’s elite. I was dressed in a servant’s uniform and ordered to remain in a corner, on standby. In case Vivian felt faint, I could be whisked away for an emergency transfusion. During the party, Kurt’s grandfather, a formidable patriarch with an air of old-world authority, spotted me. His gaze was sharp, filled with appraisal and distaste. He pulled Kurt aside, and I caught fragments of their conversation drifting over. “…bloodline…” “…reputation…” “…unseemly…” Kurt’s expression soured instantly. Vivian, the belle of the ball, was showered with extravagant gifts. After opening them, she floated over to me, a glass of champagne in hand. She plucked the most cheaply wrapped gift—a small music box—from a nearby table and held it out to me. “Here, Elena. This is for you. You look so lonely over here.” The guests nearby tittered. It was a calculated, public humiliation. I looked up at her and produced a grateful, almost subservient smile. “Thank you, Vivian.” I took the music box and hugged it to my chest as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. The moment I turned away, the smile vanished from my face, replaced by a mask of cold fury.

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My girlfriend’s entire family was taken hostage by terrorists. As members of a special operations team, it was our job to rescue them. During the firefight, I took a bullet shielding my girlfriend, Lisa. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, thankful for my body armor, I saw blood seeping through my uniform. A quick check revealed the horrifying truth: the vest Lisa had given me wasn’t bulletproof. It was a standard-issue cotton vest. As I stared at her, my eyes filled with pain and confusion, Lisa’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “I gave your vest to Noah. He’s new. He doesn’t have your skills. He needed two vests to be safe.” I clutched my side, my voice tight with rage. “You thought he wasn’t safe with one vest, so you took mine? Were you trying to get me killed?” Lisa’s face twisted in annoyance. “Why are you so selfish? Can’t you think about the rookie for once? It was just a vest.” “Besides,” she added with a sneer, “it didn’t hit anything vital. What are you crying about?” I knew arguing was pointless. I patched myself up as best I could and sent a secure message to my father, the director of the agency: Wounded in action. Requesting immediate evac. Mission compromised. Abort. 1 A short while later, Lisa, as team leader, received the director’s order to stand down. She stormed over and grabbed me by the collar, her eyes blazing. “You’re the one who tattled, aren’t you?” “Do you have any idea that my parents and my brother are in there? Every second we waste puts them in more danger.” “And you requested to abort the mission? Are you trying to get them killed?” Her violent shove tore open my makeshift bandage. Blood poured from the wound, pooling at my feet. I pressed hard against my ribs, gritting my teeth against the pain. “We walked into an ambush. The enemy knew we were coming. Going in now is a suicide mission.” “And another thing,” I added, my voice strained, “I’m shot. Is it wrong to call for a medevac?” Before Lisa could answer, Noah chimed in, his voice dripping with condescending sarcasm. “Come on, Mason. You’re a veteran of this unit. Are you really calling it quits over a scratch?” “It’s embarrassing, man.” “Besides, we’re here to save Captain Hayes’s family. Your future in-laws. And you’re just going to walk away?” “Are you a coward, or does our captain just not mean that much to you?” His words acted as a signal. The rest of the team turned on me. “Mason, if you’re scared, you should train harder. Running away just makes you look weak.” “‘No man left behind’ is our motto. You get a scrape and you’re calling for mommy? The other units will laugh us out of the service.” The searing pain was bad enough, but their mockery was a fresh kind of agony. I let go of the wound, pointing to the blood that was now pulsing out in a steady rhythm. “Are you all blind, or did you check your conscience at the door? Does this look like a scratch to you?” The other team members fell silent, but Noah just smirked. “You think getting shot makes you a hero? Stop showing off.” Lisa stepped forward, her expression disdainful. “Why is it that everyone else is fine, and you’re the only one who got shot?” “It’s because you slack off during training. When it comes to real combat, you’re useless. And you have the nerve to complain?” I wanted to defend myself, but the pain was a steel band around my chest, squeezing the words out of me. As the blood loss mounted, my vision blurred. The world started to sway. Thank God I had sent that message. Otherwise, I’d be dead for sure. Just when I thought Lisa would finally order a retreat, I heard her give the command to advance. “Everyone, on me. We hit them now, before they regroup. We take the compound and rescue the hostages.” I struggled to my feet, the pain a white-hot fire in my side. “You… you’re disobeying a direct order?” A smirk played on her lips. “I’m the field commander for this operation. I have the final say.” “And I’m not going to let a coward jeopardize the mission.” Seeing the manic look in her eyes, I knew there was no reasoning with her. “Lisa, I understand you’re desperate. But I’m wounded. I can’t go on. I have to wait for evac.” “No!” Noah cut in before Lisa could respond. His eyes were cold and calculating. “If we leave him here, he’ll tell the director that Captain Hayes deliberately disobeyed orders.” “The only way to protect ourselves is to make him complicit.” “If he dares to say a word, we’ll pin the whole thing on him.” 2 The other team members, intimidated by Lisa and Noah’s authority, quickly agreed. I looked at Lisa, her face an icy mask. “Lisa,” I said, my voice thick with emotion, “including today, this is the fourth time I’ve saved your life.” “The first time was four years ago. I pulled you out of a pile of bodies and carried you for three days and three nights across the desert.” “You cried, you said you’d spend the rest of your life repaying me. You swore you’d never betray me.” “I know I don’t mean anything to you now. But please, for all the times I saved you, just give me a chance to live.” My words seemed to reach her. She hesitated, about to speak, but Noah cut her off. “Lisa, you can’t be soft now.” “Leaving him here will ruin everything! He could sabotage the entire rescue with one call.” At his words, Lisa’s expression hardened. “Stop trying to guilt-trip me with ancient history. That was a long time ago.” “You’re the only one who knows the layout of their compound. If you don’t come, how are we supposed to rescue the hostages?” “That’s right! Mason has to come! No playing dead,” Noah added quickly. Looking at their ugly, determined faces, I knew that reason was off the table. I played my last card. “Don’t be stupid. The director of this agency, Director Evans… he’s my father. If you do this to me, he won’t let you get away with it.” Noah burst out laughing. “That’s hilarious, Mason. I didn’t realize you were so desperate to save your own skin you’d start making up dads.” The others joined in. “Our Director Evans? Why would he have a kid with a different last name?” Lisa slapped me hard across the face. “Mason Turner, I am so ashamed to have ever called you my boyfriend.” “Say one more word of that nonsense, and I’ll put a bullet in your head myself.” She pressed the barrel of her gun against my forehead. I knew they were serious. Arguing was futile. But I had one condition. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But you have to make Noah give me my vest back.” “I’m shot, I can’t move well…” “Shut up!” Lisa snapped before I could finish. “You’re wounded, which means you’re useless in a fight. Why waste a vest on you?” “I’ll say it again. Noah is new. He has no experience. He needs two vests to be safe.” Hearing her say those words, so full of blatant favoritism, was a dagger to my heart. I couldn’t believe that the woman who once looked at me with so much love would now, for another man, completely disregard my life. Ever since Noah joined the team, she’d been different. Obsessed. Her eyes followed him everywhere. I had thought it was just a crush, an innocent attraction. I never believed she would betray years of shared history, of life-and-death situations, for some pretty boy. I was a fool. When I didn’t move, Lisa racked a round into the chamber, the sound echoing in the tense silence. She pressed the gun harder against my head. “Don’t think I won’t pull the trigger. Get up. Now.” 3 Defeated, I clutched my wound and struggled to my feet. “I’ll help you, Mason,” Noah said with a sickeningly sweet smile. Before I could refuse, he slammed the butt of his rifle into my side, directly on the wound. The pain was so intense tears sprang to my eyes. I shoved him away with all my might. “Get off me!” Noah yelped and fell to the ground dramatically. Without a word, Lisa lunged at me, shoving me hard. “What the hell is your problem? Noah was trying to help you!” Noah seized the opportunity to add fuel to the fire. “It’s okay, he’s just mad I’m wearing his vest. I can take it. As long as he calms down and leads us to the hostages, it’s worth it.” His words sent Lisa into a rage. She slapped me twice, hard. “Don’t think you can bully Noah just because he’s a good person. I won’t allow it!” she screamed. “If you hurt him again, I’ll make you pay double!” The slaps were powerful, leaving my ears ringing and my face stinging. But the pain in my heart was worse. I didn’t have the strength to explain, nor the desire. “I can walk on my own.” “It’s not that you don’t need help,” Noah sneered. “You’re just looking for a chance to run.” Lisa shot me a look of pure disgust. “Mason, if you screw this up and my family gets hurt, I will make you regret it.” She turned to Noah. “Watch him. If he tries anything, you have permission to execute him on the spot.” Her voice was cold. “We’re in a combat zone. Accidents happen.” I knew she was speaking for my benefit. I also knew she was capable of it. These were her people. If she gave the order, they would follow it without question. I had to play it smart. I just had to hold on until the evac team arrived. Noah pulled me to my feet and forced me into a run, completely ignoring the fact that my wound was bleeding more and more heavily. After a few minutes of this brutal pace, I was struggling to breathe. Black spots danced in my vision. I felt like my heart was about to give out. Suddenly, shadows flickered in the alley ahead. “Take cover,” Lisa hissed. “Movement ahead.” Before I could react, Noah shoved me forward, throwing me out into the open at the intersection of two alleys. At the same instant, I heard the tell-tale click of a machine gun being loaded just down the alley. I knew I had a second, maybe less, before I was torn to pieces. With the last of my strength, I threw myself toward the corner of a building. The impact was so hard that the crumbling brick wall gave way, collapsing around me. As the wall came down, the air filled with the deafening roar of machine-gun fire. If I hadn’t moved, I’d be dead. While they were engaged in the firefight, I crawled through the rubble and found a small, dark room to hide in. I activated my locator beacon again, praying the evac team would find me soon. The gunfire outside died down quickly. It must have been a small patrol that retreated after making contact. I huddled in the darkness, not daring to breathe. My enemies weren’t just the terrorists. They were my own teammates, who wanted me dead. I stared at the broken doorway, torn between hoping for rescue and fearing who might walk through it. Just as my anxiety reached its peak, the door creaked open. 4 A tall, thin figure stepped inside, a strange, twisted smile on his face. When my eyes adjusted, my heart sank. It was Noah. I curled into a ball, praying he wouldn’t see me. “Don’t hide, Mason. I see you.” I looked up. The bastard was standing right over me. “What do you want?” I rasped. Noah’s smile was predatory. “To help you, of course. My dear teammate.” “Get away from me. The best help you could give me is to leave me alone.” “Don’t be like that. I found some antiseptic. Let me clean your wound.” He reached for my bandage. I tried to fight him off, but I was too weak from blood loss. He tore off the gauze, then jammed his fingers directly into the bullet wound. He ripped the flesh, widening the hole, and a fresh torrent of blood gushed out. “Aaargh!” The pain was unimaginable. I screamed, and with a final, desperate surge of adrenaline, I kicked him as hard as I could. He flew back, slamming against the wall. That kick took everything I had left. Noah wiped a smear of blood from his lip and brushed the dust from his pants. “Just performed a little surgery for you,” he said with a cold smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine soon.” “I’ve never done anything to you… why are you doing this?” “Nothing? You…” Just then, Lisa and the others burst in. Seeing them, Noah immediately collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest. “Mason, I was just trying to help you with your wound! Why did you kick me?” Hearing that I had attacked Noah, Lisa charged at me, but Noah grabbed her arm, stopping her. He didn’t want her to see what he’d done to my wound. “It’s okay, Lisa. It’s my fault. He’s mad I took his vest. He wouldn’t have gotten hurt otherwise. It’s normal for him to hate me.” “Noah, you’re too kind,” Lisa seethed. “But kindness is wasted on some people. Mason is a monster, and he doesn’t deserve it.” “I’m going to teach this ungrateful bastard a lesson he’ll never forget!” She shook Noah off and lunged at me. But as she raised her foot to kick me, she froze, her eyes widening in shock. “You… your wound… it’s so bad. It was just a shot to the ribs. How are your intestines hanging out?” I used my last ounce of strength to point at Noah. “He… he did this…” “He means I was the one who bandaged him up,” Noah interrupted smoothly. He adopted a look of grave concern. “He was like this when I found him. He must have caught it on something when he was running.” He looked around at the others. “As it stands, there’s nothing we can do for him. It’s time for us to make a decision.” Lisa’s face was filled with worry. “What do you mean?” “I mean he’s not going to make it. We can’t take him with us. If the terrorists find him, he’ll compromise our position.” “The best thing we can do is end his suffering now. It’s a mercy, and it protects the team.” He said it with such conviction, as if he was doing me a great favor. The others hesitated. Noah pressed on. “If you’re not worried about him giving us all away and getting us killed, then fine. Forget I said anything.” That did it. Lisa nodded grimly. “Do as Noah says. We’ll be helping Mason… easing his pain.” With the captain’s approval, the others reluctantly agreed. Noah brought over a basin of water and a stack of paper towels. “We’ll each take a towel, soak it, and place it over his face. It will only take a few minutes.” “This way, we’re all involved. No one can snitch.” Hearing this, the others dropped their reservations and started soaking the towels, pressing them over my nose and mouth. With each new layer, it became harder to breathe. Just as I thought I was about to suffocate, the door burst open. A team of operators stormed in, their leader shouting, “Stand down!” Everyone froze.

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The third year I spent playing the perfect wife, my husband, Alec Denisof, was in a car crash. I knelt by his hospital bed, gazing at his unconscious form, and my sobs were the most convincing in the room. But inside, I was ecstatic. If this bastard Alec actually dies, does that mean I inherit everything? That’s tens of billions! I’ve hit the jackpot! Just as I was reveling in my secret delight, Alec’s eyes snapped open. “What did you just say?” 1 I lifted my head, my eyes instantly welling with tears. I looked at him with an expression of profound love, my voice trembling. “I was saying… I was saying that as long as you’re okay, I’d be willing to die right here and now.” Perfect! The line, the expression… I’m almost moved to tears myself. But this time, Alec didn’t respond with his usual look of contempt. He just stared at me. For the first time, the expression on his handsome face was one of utter shock, as if he’d been struck by lightning. A bizarre mix of stunned disbelief and utter confusion. Had he… gone stupid? Looking at his shattered expression, a sense of foreboding crept over me. Please don’t tell me the crash scrambled his brains. He was staring at me so intensely it was making my skin crawl. What are you looking at? Never seen an award-winning actress before? I grumbled internally. Just as I was wondering if he’d truly lost his mind, Penelope Reed, sitting on the other side of the bed, couldn’t stay quiet any longer. She tugged on Alec’s sleeve, her voice a saccharine, baby-doll whine. “Alec, what’s wrong? Did Ava upset you again? Ava, you should apologize to him, quickly.” See that? The masterclass in being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Subtly making me the villain without breaking a sweat. Normally, Alec would have seized the opportunity to mock and belittle me. But today, he just waved a dismissive hand, his eyes never leaving my face. 2 After Alec was discharged, the atmosphere at home became… strange. He no longer spoke to me with his usual coldness, but he wasn’t exactly warm, either. Most of the time, he just watched me. Intently. It was starting to freak me out. Dude, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to start thinking you have a secret crush on me. So creepy. I’m getting goosebumps. Despite his unnerving gaze, I diligently continued my performance as the deeply devoted wife. One afternoon, I was lounging on the sofa with a face mask on, watching TV, when Penelope Reed waltzed in, carrying a thermos, dripping with calculated charm. “Ava, darling, I made some soup for Alec. Is he around?” she asked in her soft, delicate voice, but her eyes were scanning me like a radar, lingering on the thousand-dollar sheet mask I was wearing. Made soup? This is a girl who’s never touched a dish in her life. I bet the delivery guy made it. While I was roasting her in my head, I plastered a look of pleasant surprise on my face and quickly peeled off the mask. “Penelope, you’re too sweet! Alec’s in his study. Please, have a seat.” Alec heard our voices and came out of his study. Penelope immediately fluttered over to him like a social butterfly and presented the thermos. “Alec, I made this for you myself. You have to try it.” They interacted as if I wasn’t even in the room, so I discreetly started to head upstairs. “Ava, don’t go,” Penelope called out, her gaze zeroing in on my wrist. “That bracelet is gorgeous. Was it a gift from Alec?” My heart skipped a beat. The bracelet was a gift from Alec’s mother. Though his mother had never given me the time of day, the bracelet was a Denisof family heirloom, worth a fortune. Seriously? If Alec ever bought me something this expensive, pigs would fly. Oh, here comes the classic scene. She’ll ask to see it, then “accidentally” drop it, then burst into tears, making me look petty while she looks innocent. And Alec will have to comfort her. I’d bet my life the script goes exactly like that. The whole drama was already playing out in my head. I gave a shy smile. “It was… from my mother-in-law.” “Wow, she must adore you,” Penelope said, her eyes wide with envy. Then, she asked tentatively, “Can I… can I just have a look? Just for a second.” She looked so hopeful and pure that refusing would have made me look like a monster. I glanced at Alec. He was leaning against the sofa, his expression unreadable, showing no intention of helping me out. Fine. Have it your way. I steeled myself and began to slowly slide the jade bracelet off my wrist. “Of… of course.” Just as the bracelet was about to slip past my knuckles, Penelope let out a sudden “Oh!” and stumbled, crashing directly into me. CRACK! The sharp sound of splintering jade echoed through the silent living room. The emerald-green bracelet lay on the polished marble floor in a dozen pieces. There go my fifty billion. No, I mean, there goes the Denisof family heirloom. Penelope’s reaction was faster than mine. She immediately dropped to her knees, tears instantly streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry, Ava! It’s all my fault, I lost my balance… Something so precious…” She cried so beautifully it was almost poetic, as if her own heart had shattered, not the bracelet. I stood frozen, my face pale, tears welling in my eyes, perfectly portraying the image of a bullied wife, heartbroken but too scared to speak up. Not bad, girl. With acting skills like that, you’re wasted on anything less than professional extortion. Alright, the ball’s in Alec’s court now. According to the script, he should rush over, help his darling Penelope to her feet, and then shoot me a death glare while saying something like, ‘It’s just a bracelet. It’s not as important as Penelope.’ I looked at Alec, half-expecting him to deliver the final, crushing blow. But Alec didn’t move. He didn’t even glance at the weeping Penelope or the pile of shattered jade on the floor. His gaze was fixed, unwaveringly, on my face. And in his eyes… there was a look of scrutiny I’d never seen before. And… disappointment? What was he disappointed about? That I didn’t immediately start a catfight with Penelope? What are you looking at me for? Look at your precious angel! She’s waiting for you to comfort her. Why aren’t you following the script? Next, she’s supposed to offer to replace it, then pull out some cheap knockoff she bought at a flea market to humiliate me. Countdown starting in five, four, three… “Ava, I’m truly sorry,” Penelope said, just as I predicted, lifting her tear-streaked face. She sniffled, pulling a bracelet from her own wrist. “This one isn’t as valuable as yours, but it was a gift from my mother. Please… please take it. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to forgive myself…” She held the bracelet out, looking pitifully at me, then at Alec. The living room was dead silent. Just when I thought Alec would condescendingly tell me to be gracious and accept it, he finally spoke. “That won’t be necessary.” Two words. They froze Penelope’s sobs and her outstretched hand in mid-air. Alec slowly stood up and walked over to us. He looked down at Penelope, his eyes utterly devoid of warmth. “The housekeeper just mopped. The floor is a bit slippery. You should be more careful next time.” He paused, then turned toward the door. “Mark, see Ms. Reed out.” The expression on Penelope’s face shifted from tragic damsel to dumbfounded shock, the color draining completely from her cheeks. I was stunned, too. What… what did that mean? He didn’t comfort Penelope. He didn’t blame me. He just… brushed it off and kicked her out? As Mark “escorted” Penelope out, she gave me a look that could kill. The living room was empty except for me, Alec, and the shattered jade on the floor. He looked at me, still with that same, unreadable expression. For the first time, a flicker of panic ignited within me. This man, who I thought I had wrapped around my little finger, had changed. Something about him, somewhere along the way, had completely and utterly changed. 3 After Penelope was shown the door, I cautiously knelt and started picking up the bracelet fragments. I kept my head down, not daring to look at Alec, but my mind was racing. What the hell is wrong with him today? Instead of defending his precious angel and attacking me, he sends her packing? Could it be… his conscience finally kicked in? No way. A dog ate his conscience years ago. I get it! He must have thought Penelope’s acting was so terrible it was embarrassing him. Yes, that has to be it. Still, my heart aches for his mom’s bracelet. That thing was worth billions, and now it’s smithereens. If his mother finds out, she’ll skin me alive. Nope, I can’t take the blame for this. While I schemed, I spoke in the most grief-stricken tone I could muster. “Alec, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, I wasn’t holding it properly… If your mother asks…” “It’s just a bracelet.” Alec cut me off, his voice flat and emotionless. I looked up and met his deep, inscrutable eyes. He had repeated the exact line I had scripted for him in my head, but the tone and context were completely wrong. There was no comfort for Penelope, no defense of her actions. Just a chilling, unnerving calm. “You don’t need to worry about it. I’ll handle it,” he said, then turned and went back into his study, shutting the door with a firm click. I remained frozen, staring at the closed door, the sense of unease growing stronger. His reaction was completely off-script. For the next few days, Alec became even more withdrawn. He stopped staring at me with that strange intensity, but the tension in the house was thicker than ever. He would lock himself in his study and stay there all day. I was more than happy to have the peace and quiet. I spent my days at the spa, shopping, and counting down the days until our contract expired. My mood was soaring. One evening, I was humming a tune as I came out of the bathroom. I passed his study and noticed the door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. Curious, I tiptoed closer to see what he was up to. Through the crack in the door, I saw Alec sitting at his desk, holding a document, lost in thought. His handsome profile was cast in shadow by the desk lamp. That document… it looked familiar. I squinted, and my heart dropped into my stomach. Wasn’t that the prenuptial agreement we signed three years ago?! He had pulled it out? I held my breath, the hair on my arms standing on end. What the hell is he playing at? We’re so close to the end. Why would he pull out the contract now? Is he thinking of backing out? Is he going to try to screw me out of the villa and the fifty million compensation? I knew it! Capitalists are all the same! Alec Denisof, you son of a bitch, if you dare to back out of this deal, I swear I’ll kill you! I was fuming, wanting nothing more than to storm in there and demand an explanation. But blowing up now wouldn’t do me any good. I took a deep breath, suppressed my anger, and quietly backed away, planning to retreat to my room and strategize. Just then, Alec moved. He slowly lifted his head, and our eyes met in the dim hallway. The look in his eyes was something I had never seen before… shattered. Yes, shattered. Like a broken mirror reflecting shock, pain, and a deep, self-mocking irony. He held up the agreement, his voice raw and hoarse. “Ava,” he asked, “these three years… has it all just been an act?” My heart sank. He knows? How could he know? He’s known the terms of the contract from the beginning, what’s different now? I forced myself to remain calm, my face quickly morphing into the familiar, innocent, and bewildered expression he knew so well. “Alec, what are you talking about? What act?” I cautiously pushed the door open and walked toward him, my eyes turning red on cue. “I… I don’t understand.” Alec watched me, watched me approach him step by step, watched the flawless performance on my face. And then, he let out a low, soft laugh. It was a laugh filled with endless sorrow and self-deprecation. He slammed the agreement down on the desk with a loud rustle. “You don’t understand?” he repeated, his eyes bloodshot, enunciating every word. “Ava, I’m asking you. Do you want to leave me that badly?” Of course! Did you think I’d stick around to be the stepping stone for you and your true love? To wait for you to discard me when you’re done? Three more months. Just three more months! I just have to endure it, and then freedom and money will be mine! I can’t screw this up now! While I gave myself a mental pep talk, my trembling voice delivered a heartfelt confession. “Alec, I don’t know why you’re suddenly saying this.” “I love you. Why would I ever want to leave you? Unless… unless you don’t want me anymore.” As I spoke, a single, perfectly timed tear rolled down my cheek. I expected my performance, like all the others over the past three years, to be met with his usual disgust and impatience. But this time was different. As my words hung in the air, the last glimmer of light in his eyes was completely extinguished.

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A simple outpatient procedure. That’s all it took to kill my mother. My father, a leading expert in medical malpractice, personally handled the review. The official conclusion: my mother had secretly eaten before the operation, leading to fatal complications. The hospital and the lead surgeon were cleared of all responsibility. When he told me the results, my father’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice trembling with self-reproach. “I’m to blame for this, too, Ava,” he’d choked out. “I should have watched her more closely before the surgery.” He added, “But the surgeon was my star pupil. Her skills are impeccable.” After the dust settled, I went to claim my mother’s body. What I received was a hollowed-out shell, most of her organs harvested. My father’s prized protégé, Lana Wells, produced an organ donation form, supposedly signed by my mother beforehand. I looked at the clumsy forgery and laughed. The next day, I started a global livestream. The title was: “Live Masterclass: Human Anatomy by a University Professor.” Except this time, the subject on the table was very much alive. It was my father’s star pupil, Lana Wells. 1 The broadcast, hosted by the youngest professor at the nation’s top medical university, went viral instantly. The viewer count skyrocketed past one hundred thousand. On the cold, gleaming steel of the dissection table, Lana Wells was strapped down like an animal for slaughter, stripped bare. Her wrists and ankles were bound, a thick cloth gagged her mouth. In stark contrast, I was dressed in full surgical attire, every professional instrument laid out, ready for a live dissection. Realization of what was about to happen dawned in her eyes. A terrified, muffled whimper escaped her throat. The livestream chat exploded as viewers understood they were watching a living person on the table. [Wait, WHAT?! Is she alive? This is straight-up murder!] [Alive? I thought I was seeing things!] [Look! She’s moving!] [This is horrific. I can’t watch.] A collective gasp went through the audience. The tension was palpable. But no one was more tense than Dr. Marcus Thorne, my father. Because the person I was about to dissect was his beloved protégé. On a screen in my lab, his face was projected, neck craned, his complexion a deep, panicked red. “Ava! What in God’s name are you doing?” he yelled. “Let Lana go, right now!” “I’ve already been through the official review! The surgery failed because your mother ate beforehand. The food aspirated into her lungs, and she suffocated. It had nothing to do with Lana!” I glanced up at his frantic face on the monitor and let out a cold, humorless laugh. “The daughter of a medical dynasty, forgetting the number one rule of pre-op? Don’t eat or drink?” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “You underestimate her.” “Or,” I added, my eyes locking onto the camera, “do you just think I’m an idiot?” I picked up a scalpel from the tray, its edge catching the light with a sterile glint. I pressed the tip gently against Lana’s abdomen. The chat erupted in fury. [This isn’t a masterclass, it’s a vendetta! Your mom died in a surgical accident, the surgeon didn’t murder her! What gives you the right?!] [The medical review was conclusive. You’re just in denial, taking it out on the surgeon. Who the hell do you think you are!] [Dr. Thorne is a renowned expert! He reviewed his own wife’s case and admitted it was the patient’s fault. What more do you want?!] [Your mom died because she was stupid. Everyone knows you don’t eat before surgery. It’s common sense!] [Exactly. And a mother like that raised a professor at a top university? Who would ever trust a doctor taught by her?!] The internet mob was almost unanimously on his side, their digital pitchforks aimed squarely at me. I ignored them. Gripping the scalpel, I made a clean, decisive incision across Lana’s stomach. The wet, tearing sound of flesh parting filled the stream’s audio feed. The viewers lost their minds. [Call the cops! She’s killing her!] [Someone get a location trace on this stream! Now!] But their hopes faded quickly. My lab was in a remote, overseas location. Triangulating my position would involve a mountain of international red tape. Enough time, I thought, to take Lana apart piece by piece. As I pulled the incision open like a zipper, I leaned down, my voice a cold whisper in her ear. “Where did you start when you harvested my mother’s organs? The heart, was it? And the corneas last?” I smiled. “That’s no fun. Let’s do it in reverse.” I raised the scalpel, aiming for Lana’s eye. That’s when Marcus Thorne finally broke. “Wait!” he screamed. “Stop! I have something to say!” 2 The blade froze, a hair’s breadth from Lana’s tear-filled, terrified eye. On the screen, my father’s face was ashen, his breathing ragged. He swallowed hard, beads of sweat trickling down his temple. “Your mother… she ate before the surgery on purpose,” he stammered. “Because… because she didn’t want to live anymore.” “She had depression!” “She didn’t have the courage to end her own life, so she forced someone else’s hand!” His voice, now laced with a tearful, dramatic tremor, began a masterful performance for the hundred thousand viewers. “Ava, my dear, I never dared to tell you,” he sobbed, his words catching in his throat. “Your mother suffered from depression for years. Every day was agony for her…” “But I never, ever thought she would choose to end it all on the eve of her surgery.” His tears were perfectly timed, landing like emotional bombshells in the chat. [I’m actually crying. What a noble man. Dr. Thorne has been through so much for his wife and daughter.] [He’s one of the good ones. A hospital director, a top expert, and so devoted to his family. It’s a tragedy he was cursed with such a foolish wife and a deranged daughter.] [Am I the only one who doesn’t get it? If you want to die, just do it. Why drag the surgeon down with you?] [Seriously. That poor doctor had the worst luck in the world getting assigned to her case.] The flood of online sympathy for him threatened to drown me. But I just smiled. Holding Lana’s head steady, I made a swift, precise cut and removed her cornea. Blood sprayed across my face, a grotesque, crimson mask. The chat exploded again. [She’s a monster! Pure evil! She should be drawn and quartered!] [What is wrong with you?! Your mother is dead, why are you torturing someone else?!] [Oh my God, someone please save that poor doctor!] I casually tossed the cornea onto the floor and ground it into a pulp under my heel, just to be sure. On the screen, Marcus Thorne’s face had gone from ashen to the color of death. He shot up from his chair, slamming his fist on the desk. “AVA! YOU’RE INSANE!” “WHAT MORE DO I HAVE TO SAY TO MAKE YOU BELIEVE ME?!” “Let her go! LET HER GO!” Seeing their beloved Dr. Thorne so heartbroken sent his online cheerleaders into a frenzy. [If someone doesn’t stop this psycho, a brilliant talent that Dr. Thorne spent years mentoring will be lost forever.] [Such a waste. She was the star pupil of an expert! Destined to be one of the best in her field, and now she’s going to die at the hands of this maniac!] [Dr. Thorne must be in agony.] [Forget Dr. Thorne, I’m in agony watching this.] [You crazy bitch, let her go!] Their screams were useless. My scalpel wasn’t listening. Its tip drifted slowly toward Lana’s other eye. A low, sinister laugh rumbled in my chest. “Still not telling the truth, are we?” As my words faded, the pressure of the blade increased, about to pierce her other eye. “Ava!” Suddenly, a familiar voice, thick with anguish, cut through the chaos. I looked up. It was Mrs. Gable. The old housekeeper who had served my mother for decades. She was more of a grandmother to me than anyone. “Mrs. Gable?” I froze, the scalpel in my hand finally faltering. She rushed toward the camera on their end, her face stained with tears. In her hands, she held a pile of prescription bottles—antidepressants. She dumped them all out in front of the lens. “Ava, listen to me!” she cried. “Your father… he isn’t lying! Your mother was depressed. For a very long time.” 3 My hand, usually rock-steady with a blade, trembled uncontrollably. Beneath the tip of my scalpel, Lana sucked in a sharp, terrified breath as fat tears rolled from her remaining eye. I straightened up, my own eyes welling with tears. But I blinked them back, forcing the moisture away, my gaze hardening as I stared back at the camera. “Mrs. Gable,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “How much did he pay you? How much did it take for you to betray the woman you watched grow up?” “She was like your own daughter!” I slammed my hand on the instrument tray. “What happened to you?” Mrs. Gable’s face went pale. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Marcus seized the opportunity. “Ava, you have to accept reality!” he pleaded. “Mrs. Gable has shown you the proof! Why are you still so delusional?” I stared at the collection of pill bottles on the screen. They were pristine, unopened, some still in their pharmacy bags. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “The daughter of the Crawford medical dynasty, whose first lesson in life was to cherish it above all else,” I began, my voice rising with each word. “The woman who told me every single day, ‘As long as you’re alive, there’s hope. Never, ever give up on your life.’” “You expect me to believe a woman like that wanted to die?” As my fury peaked, my hand shot out. With surgical precision, I carved out Lana’s other cornea. Even with the gag, she let out a piercing, guttural scream. The dark, twisted heart in her chest hammered against her ribs as if trying to break free. The gruesome act sent the livestream into another meltdown. [She’s lost it! Completely insane! A medical genius is now blind because of this monster! This is unforgivable!] [How have they not found this psycho yet?! Somebody save Dr. Wells!] [SHE TOLD YOU YOUR MOM KILLED HERSELF! ARE YOU DEAF?!] [Do you have a persecution complex? Your mom committed suicide, and you just have to find someone to blame? If you can’t handle her death, go join her! Stop destroying other people’s lives!] As always, I ignored the digital noise, my eyes once again fixed on the screen, cold and menacing. “Dr. Thorne, if you don’t start telling the truth, her kidney is next.” “Can you really bear to watch your star pupil be dismantled, piece by piece?” I tilted my head, a predatory smile playing on my lips. Marcus Thorne clenched his jaw so hard the muscles in his face quivered. I kept smiling. “I’m starting the countdown.” “Ten. Nine. Eight…” His face grew even paler. “What is wrong with you! I’m telling you the truth!” “Five. Four. Three…” Panic flashed in his eyes. “I’ll say it again, let Lana go!” “Two. One…” I raised the scalpel, my gaze dropping to Lana’s exposed abdomen. “Ava!” A weathered, urgent voice echoed through the speakers. A voice that stopped my hand mid-air. “Professor Albright?” I whispered. “What are you doing here?” 4 Appearing on the screen was the face of a man I revered. He was the one who had taught me how to hold a scalpel, who had walked me through the intricate map of the human body, who had spent countless nights with me in the lab, pushing the boundaries of medicine. Seeing him awakened a soft, vulnerable part of me I thought was long dead. I slowly lowered the scalpel, my vision blurring with tears. “Ava!” he cried, his voice laced with pain. “Don’t do this! Please, don’t be impulsive!” “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?! If you kill her, you’re not just ending her life—you’re destroying your own!” He was leaning so close to the camera it was as if he was trying to reach through the screen and stop me himself. My hand, still holding the bloody scalpel, felt impossibly heavy. My shoulders slumped. “Professor,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t have a career anymore.” “This dissection… this will be the last procedure I ever perform.” I looked up, my eyes meeting his through the lens, filled with an unstoppable, grim resolve. Seeing my expression, he slammed his fist on the table in frustration. “You foolish girl!” “Let me tell you the truth,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “I was part of the review team for your mother’s case. She really did die because she ate before the surgery!” “You’ve always trusted me more than anyone, Ava. When have I ever lied to you?” The viewers pounced on his words. [See! Even your own mentor is saying it!] [That’s the final nail in the coffin. You have nothing left to say, do you? Facts are facts, and you can’t change them no matter how much you kick and scream!] [Your mother was an ignorant psycho, and so are you!] [Eating before surgery. It’s an open-and-shut case! It’s her own damn fault she’s dead!] [Give it up already and let Dr. Wells go!] The tears in my eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling cold. I looked at the screen. “Professor,” I said softly. “Can I still trust you?” “Tell me, why are you lying for him? What does he have on you?” The chat went wild again. [Oh for God’s sake! Are you serious?!] [So Mrs. Gable was bribed, and your mentor is being blackmailed? You’ve watched way too many soap operas! You’re completely delusional!] [Have you been drinking the formaldehyde?!] I tightened my grip on the scalpel and leaned close to Lana’s ear. “Time to say goodbye to a kidney,” I whispered. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit. My mother got through it. So can you.” I straightened up with a smile and moved the blade toward her abdomen. Just as the tip was about to break the tissue, Professor Albright panicked. “Ava!” he yelled. “You don’t believe me? Fine! But you have to believe your mother, don’t you?!” “You’ll believe her own words, won’t you?!” My pupils contracted. My hand stopped. Professor Albright quickly pulled out his phone and played a video. On the screen, my mother, dressed in a hospital gown, was about to be taken into surgery. Her face was pale, but her eyes, looking into the camera, were as gentle as I remembered. “Ava,” she began, her voice soft. “My sweet baby girl.” “There’s something I’ve never told you…”

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